8 Ball Roller
by Night-Requiem
Summary: Legato is known for his cruelty, and life of terror. But when one of his past victims spends her life hunting for him, the lines between right and wrong are shattered. Vash and Wolfwood both attempt to salvage Trieste's humanity (language/violence/sex).
1. Intro

Hey! Before you read, let me point out some important notes.  
  
1. Sorry, no m/m pairings in this one. There's not a lot of m/f pairings either, but there are references to rape, sex, and such.  
  
2. This story uses the Trigun characters, but I took the original plot and somewhat tossed it out the window. And I tried to keep them all in character, but there are changes simply to fit my story.  
  
3. When you read, you're going to come across sentences and phrases that are familiar to you and you'll realize 'Hey! This is a line from my favorite song!' I did it on purpose. I put in song lyrics as part of people's conversation, so if it sounds familiar, you've probably heard it on the radio. And I'll mention musical artists, but the names will be somewhat off. The story is written under the assumption that Earth as we know it was around at some point but, like in a game of telephone, names and things get screwed up through time. At the end of the story I'll supply the phrase again, the song, the artist, and-if I know it-the album.  
  
4. Also in line with 3, I have some book title/character references, but these are few and far between.  
  
5. Please, please Review! Hell, I'll even read and review your stuff afterwards! ^.^ Even if you don't have any real thought about the story, just Review to say you read it and maybe a thumbs up/thumbs down.  
  
*~* = POV or time change, it should be obvious which one it is when you read  
*word* = emphasis  
'word' = obviously means dialogue  
word = inner thought  
``lyrics`` = whenever there's someone singing in the backround.  
  
(A friend pointed something out to me, cause he had no idea what a certain word meant. 'Nome' means no, it's a Southern/South-Western variation on it. E-mail if you see any other...strange words)  
  
Comin' Up From Behind by Marcy Playground (source of title)  
  
Ah, She's an eight ball.   
She's a'rollin faster than a white wall.   
She's got an avalanche packed into a snowball.   
She's a losin all the links,   
She's like a stonewall.   
She's loaded up.   
  
She's the underdog.   
Gonna take a mighty swipe   
At the high horse,   
While'a sippin on her tricks   
In a pitfall.   
Makin eyes at the girls like bullfrogs,   
I'm telling you, sir.   
  
She's comin up from,   
comin up from, comin up,   
comin up from behind.   
  
Yeah,   
She's comin up from,   
comin up from, comin up,   
comin up from behind.   
  
You'd like her hanging.   
Like a sneaker on a live wire, dangling.   
While your Wall Street pockets are jangling   
With the hollow jackpot of your rich kid games.   
  
It's a longshot,   
She's got her truth and her tongue for a slingshot.   
But she's takin' steady aim   
At the bigshots.   
It's hard to miss the rolling bullets   
On the blacktop.   
You better watch your turf.   
  
She's comin up from,   
comin up from, comin up,   
comin up from behind.   
  
Yeah,   
She's comin up from,   
comin up from, comin up,   
comin up from behind.   
  
You had her hanging   
Like a sneaker on a live wire, dangling.   
While your golden-lined pockets were jangling   
With the hollow jackpot of your wretched games.   
  
She caught your sick lie,   
It's creepin in the shadow of your white smile.   
Lurking underneath the cover of your bedroom eyes.   
Well, you're greasin' up the lance for your small-fry.   
  
You wanna talk it up, do you?   
Well you're floatin like a royal balloon -- oh.   
Your ego's swollen to the size of the moon, well,   
I think you found somebody to cut you down to size.   
Well well.   
  
Yeah,   
She's comin up from behind,   
She's comin up from behind... 


	2. Barrel of a Gun

Notes: This has been re-loaded. I after watching some more Trigun eps, I realized he was horribly out of character, so I made a few changes to Vash himself.  
  
Also, thoughts have been changed to ::word:: because the Internet is stupid and made weird symbols with my previous...thingies.   
  
Enjoy!  
  
*~*  
  
The night was just getting started in Sundown Tavern when a stranger to the small town walked slowly in, sat at the bar, an ordered a drink. Sipping slowly, he let his gaze wander around the dusty bar, which was noisy and packed with people. It was mostly cowboys and their friends, a few girls wandering around, most were barmaids and possibly call girls. It was a small, unfriendly bar that served as a cheap hotel on the second and third floors, and since it lacked entertainment, it was good for only one thing: getting drunk. The blond, spike-haired man wasn't planning on being completely wasted, but was just looking for a good buzz that would cheer him up. As his turquoise eyes, distorted somewhat by his yellow-lensed glasses, looked around, a young girl-nineteen at most-coyly wandered up to him and leaned seductively against the bar counter and smiled.  
  
'Hey stranger, can I get ya anything? Nothing too expensive around here...but it's still good.' Her voice was low and throaty, pleasing to listen to. Her eyes were a pale shade of blue that contrasted beautifully with her glossy, black hair. Her tight fitting dress didn't even try to hide her body, and the man found himself unable to quite take his eyes away from the low-cut top.  
  
'I...uh...' He giggled nervously, causing the girl to raise an eyebrow curiously.  
  
'What, poor baby not sure? Maybe I help make up your mind...if you have what I need.' As she leaned in closer, there was a loud crash behind them. A couple of men who had imbibed a bit too much had started a quarrel and began knocking over chairs.   
  
'Chrissy, better go calm them idiots down.' The barkeep had come up behind them from the bar, and glared at the blond man who was wearing the strangest red trench coat he had ever seen. 'Don't waste your time on this guy, he don't have the money for you. Go smooth things out over there, they have the cash you want.' Rolling her eyes, 'Chrissy' pushed herself away and sauntered over to the agitated men to calm them down. After a minute or so, one of them laughed then tossed the girl over his shoulder and started walking up a pair of stairs. Chrissy forced herself to laugh over her humiliation, but no one noticed. The other three sat themselves down at another table, slightly closer to the bar. Normal activities ensued as people went in and out of the bar, up and down the stairs. The man in the red coat watched everyone's coming and goings, and found himself particularly interested when a figure in an everyday hood and cloak came silently in, but left his hood on. No one else bothered to look up as he walked to the bar and sat three stools away from the blond haired man. When the bartender went over to take the hooded man's order, the first man couldn't even hear. A mug of beer was produced and he drank in silence, head down, hood on. After a while it seemed nothing would come of him when the three cowboys noticed the still figure. All three got up, beers in hand, and proceeded to encircle the hooded figure.  
  
'So what's with the hood, mister? Too ashamed to show yur ugly face?' The one man grinned mockingly, ruining what could have been a handsome face. His two friends laughed and nodded to each other. The cloaked figured raised his head and a gruff voice came from inside the hood.  
  
'It is not shame, it is consideration for the people in here. I was caught in a fire, and my face was badly burned. To show it would cause the women to swoon and young bloods to turn away in fear and disgust. With every shocked face I remember my mother...she was killed in that fire.' His voice was weary, old, and amazingly sad. The two men behind him backed away after hearing this, taking pity on the old man, but the first drunken cowboy stayed.  
  
'So mister lost his mommy, and now he drinks away his pain everyday. C'mon, what's yur story? Ya can't form relationships because your life is fucked up, so you travel from place to place, taking comfort in drinks and hookers. Am I right? Tell me, am I right?' He laughed, elbowing the cloaked man, spilling some of his drink. It was apparent he was getting annoyed, but tried kept his anger in check.   
  
'Yes, that's exactly it. I drown my life in booze and screw women in the dark so they aren't terrified of my face. Yes, you got it down to the letter,' he said disgustedly, then took a long gulp of his drink and motioned for more. As he waved, the cowboy looked at his hands, which, though partially covered by fingerless riding gloves, were dirty and calloused and surprisingly slender. The blond man frowned, they didn't look like old hands at all.  
  
'You got tiny hands, ya feminine bastard,' he chuckled. 'Yur a Goddamned lady with dirty hands!'  
  
'Better that my hands are feminine than other features,' growled the cloaked man. The cowboy slammed his glass down.  
  
'Just what the hell d'ya mean by that? Are you insultin' me?'  
  
'No more than you've been insulting me all evening, young blood, so pipe down and back off. Have some respect for your elders. All I'm trying to do is have a drink before I get on my way. I have no trouble with you, and I'd prefer to keep it that way for simplicity's sake.' The cowboy narrowed his eyes.  
  
'Coward.'  
  
'Say what you want, I'm going to finish my drink in peace.' The cowboy stood where he was for half a minute, then burped loudly and stumbled back to his friends. After a few moments, the blond man got up and sat down next to the hooded man.  
  
'You handled that situation very well.' The man's head looked up, still covered in the hood and shadow. 'My name is Vash, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry about your mother. Was it recent?' There was a pause.  
  
'No. I was a child,' the man said shortly. 'But I really don't feel like talking, sir. Thank you for your pity, but I do not need it. I prefer to be left alone.' Vash looked crestfallen.  
  
'Oh, ok. Well, I just want you to know you have a friendly face in this town so long as we're both here.' He waited for a response, but the man was again silent, so Vash moved back to his stool.  
  
After a while, it seemed like there was going to be quiet and calm, but a high pitched scream suddenly sang through the air. A young man with red hair had stood up and was holding a gun to one of the bar maids' head, who was yelling and struggling.  
  
'Shut up bitch!' he yelled at her, giving her a sharp squeeze that left her breathless. 'Alright, everybody, I think most of you know the drill. Stay exactly where you are and hand the gentlemen that are coming around your money, your jewelry, and anything else we might ask you for. Try anything heroic and this lovely young lady will being getting her last tip. And even if you're willing to risk her life, there will be someone ready and willing to shoot you. So y'all better behave!' A silence fell onto the crowd as women gave up necklaces and rings, men gave up guns and money, and the bartender was relieved of some expensive whiskey by about fifteen men, not including the man holding the woman hostage. One of the thieves approached the cloaked man.  
  
'Hand over your stuff, old man.' The cloaked man held up his hands slightly.  
  
'I only brought in enough for a drink. My gun and money are with my horse.' The thief sneered.   
  
'Intelligent. Don't you realize it'll just be the stable boy taking your stuff?'  
  
'Well, I trusted the people in this town-a mistake so it seems.'  
  
'I don't believe you. I do hope you aren't lying.' He tried to look inside the man's cloak unsuccessfully.  
  
'My apologies, but I am empty. Sorry, but you can't always get what you want.' The thief laughed and moved on. The ring leader was smiling as he watched, but a man of small frame with wild black hair was looking nervous.   
  
'Are you sure this is OK, cause this wasn't one of our jobs. Will LB be angry with us? I mean, angry that we're acting on our own-'  
  
'Of course not, dipshit! He'll appreciate the income.' The black haired man nodded swiftly, then looked back at the silent room.   
  
During the course of their conversation, Vash had been going back and forth between the thieves and the hooded man, while trying to determine when to stand up and put and end to the cruelty. He was surprised how easily the thief was turned away, but the old man seemed to have the power to make people act in the way he wanted. He had been still the entire time until the small man had mentioned LB, whoever that was; he jumped up as if stung, and swung around to stare at the offending men. The thief who had demanded his money was walking towards Vash when the hooded man stopped him.   
  
'Wait, I do have something to give.' He reached into his cloak and, in a liquid smooth motion, pulled out a gun and smashed the thief in the face. Vash realized too late that the man was raising his gun and without even pausing, pointed across the room and pulled the trigger, shooting the leader in the throat. Gurgling painfully, he slumped onto the woman, who went into a shock like state and fell underneath him. As his blood poured out onto her clothing and arms, she screamed hysterically and clawed to get away from him. But as he fell, everyone else had started moving and everything happened at once. Yelling out, Vash had tried to hurl himself into the old man to prevent him from killing the thief, but it was too late. There had been no warning at all. Cursing at Vash, the man punched him with his free hand and leapt behind the bar. Trying to avoid flying bullets, Vash dove for a table, and many people just threw themselves to the floor. All hell was breaking loose, as gun fire rang out, tables were tossed to the ground, and people were screaming randomly. Vash was lost; the thieves and regular cowboys were indistinguishable to him. The cowboys knew who to shoot because they knew each other, same with the thieves, but Vash didn't know anyone at all. Out of the corner of his eye, Vash saw the hooded man peek over the bar and shoot quickly.   
  
::How the hell does he know who to shoot?:: Vash wondered bitterly and sadly. True, the thieves had threatened all their lives, but killing anyone was never the answer! The old man ran from behind the bar and threw himself against a section of wall that extended from a doorway, peered around the corner, and fired several rounds, and quickly slung back when the fire was returned. He began forging a solitary path around upturned tables and large posts that held up the ceiling; Vash started to follow.  
  
*~*  
  
The man was angry as all hell. He didn't feel like dealing with these idiots, but of course he had started this, so he had to finish it. Hopefully there would be some information that could be extracted from the assholes with guns. He leapt behind another table and reloaded his gun, then looked up to the wall two feet in front of him; it was actually a wide, ceiling length mirror, covered with grime and dried beer. Through the crud the man saw the reflection of a thief looking around and their eyes locked. 'Shit!' The old man swiftly jumped from where he was, but not before the thief shot into the mirror and the bullet ricocheted into his right shoulder. Cursing and clutching the wound, the man roared, stood up, shot, and sent a bullet into the offender's heart.  
  
Meanwhile Vash was finally figuring out who the bad guys were and incapacitating them as quickly as possible; there weren't too many of them left, and many were dead. He had tried as hard as he could to save as many lives as possible, and was relatively successful. Suddenly it seemed like it was all over; everything was quiet again and the old man was striding towards Vash, gun down at his waist. He stopped two feet in front of Vash, looking down at an unconscious man. Vash could only stand there silently, staring at the hidden man, pain and sadness enveloping him as he realized how many had died-how many this man managed to kill. The man began to turn around when there was a furious curse behind him and one of the thieves staggered up, bloody and half dead, raising a gun towards Vash. Before he could react, the man pushed him out of the, yelling 'Get out of my way!' and threw himself into the last thief. Vash stared in shock, surprised that he would save him...and surprised by the long hair that billowed from the hood as it flapped off. He scrambled up and looked over the long table the man has vaulted himself over and gaped; instead of an old graying man, it was a young woman with dark brown hair that was leaning over the downed thief. ::A woman...?::  
  
'You listen to me, shit face,' the girl spat quietly into the thief's face. 'I know who you work for and I know he's going to be bailing your ass out of here-if you live. So next time you see him, tell him that his only mistake is coming back to haunt him.' She punched him in the jaw, tossed her hood on, and stood up, looking at Vash. 'As for you, forget I'm a woman. In fact, it would be better if you forget you ever met me, because I never met you.' She turned away, leaving Vash confused. People were helping the injured, covering the dead, retrieving their money, and comforting those who were terrified. The girl tapped another barmaid on the shoulder. 'Bring me up hot water, soap, and some rags to my room, I'm in number 6. Please be swift, you'll be paid all the better if you are prompt.' The young barmaid was somewhat hurt by 'his' callous behavior, but nodded and went to get the items. Vash watched as the cloaked women climbed the stairs to where the bedrooms were, but his attention was soon needed elsewhere and he began to help. Try as he might, Vash was unable to stop the tears from flowing as he helped cover the dead with table cloths. It was about twenty minutes later that he was able to stumble up the stairs.  
  
*~* 


	3. Dilate

Pssst...I don't own Trigun or any of its characters! But I *do* own 'Cloaked Man/Woman' and any other characters that might pop up now and then...  
  
Thanks to GhostGuy, Bluesummers, Alucard, and TeaRoses for their reviews! ^.^ I'm glad you like the story and my character, and don't worry! There's plenty more to come! (Y'all should read Alucard's and TeaRoses's fics).  
  
*~*  
  
The girl frowned as she staunched the blood flow from her shoulder with the already sopping rag. 'Goddamnit, I hate getting shot. Son of a bitch!' Her irritation with the wound was compounded by the fact that there were live men down there she could pump for information, but all the people-including that Vash character-would be in the way, and would hear what was being said. She'd have to wait until tomorrow. She was about to let out a long list of expletives when there was a knock at her door. 'Who is it?' she asked gruffly.  
  
'Vash! I came to see how you were.' The girl debated for a moment, then decided it was better to placate the man instead of leaving him pounding at the door, as she felt he would. She unlocked and opened the door slightly, let him in, then quickly closed it again. He turned to her, extending his hand in comfort. 'Are you OK...' he stopped, staring.   
  
The girl's only clothing was a pair of baggy, dirty brown pants, and some sort of cloth wrapped around her chest in strips. Her arms were slim but muscular, and her stomach was flat and muscular as well. Her eyes were blue grey, and though she was obviously quite young-only her early twenties-she really did seem to be as old as the man she portrayed. He pointed to her cloth strip 'shirt' that wrapped around her breasts down to her mid-riff. 'Did you hurt your ribs?'  
  
'No, it's to flatten my chest. Most men don't have breasts, at least last time I checked.' She sat back down on her chair, picking up another rag, wetting it, and wiped away the slowing blood flow. Vash frowned.  
  
'You got shot!'  
  
'Just a ricochet,' she said shortly and pulled bandages and a bottle of what Vash recognized as disinfectant out of a bag on the floor and began to wrap her shoulder, seeming to be annoyed with the awkward position.  
  
'Shouldn't you get a doctor to get the bullet out first?' She shook her head and pointed to a small plate on the floor; a misshapen bullet lay in the middle.  
  
'It didn't go in far, it was easy enough to get out.' She tied off the bandage, then looked at Vash. 'So what do you want? I told you to forget you ever met me.'  
  
'I wanted to thank you for saving my life. I wasn't expecting that guy to pop up with a gun. I thought I knocked him out. But...I wanted to know why you had to kill the men you did.' Vash didn't bother to hide the sadness in his voice, but the girl just stared oddly at him.  
  
'He was going to kill me and you if he could. Knocking someone out is only temporary. That's why you shoot to kill.' Vash blanched and tried to interrupt, but she continued. 'And my intention wasn't to save you, it was to get you out of my way so I could get to the bastard.'  
  
Vash shook his head. 'You're just saying that to sound tough,' he said, laying a gloved hand on her bare shoulder. 'You should never take the life of another human being, there's always another way out.' She shook his hand off coldly, not bothering to reply then stood up. Her head came to about Vash's chin, but looking at her, Vash felt like she was immense, utterly gigantic; there was nothing small about her.  
  
'That's a nice sentiment, in fact it's quite beautiful and I'm sure it's going to get you somewhere-in a damned grave without a single stone to mark your body. Most people cannot afford to live like that, don't bother to try to convince me.' She stared boldly at him, sneering a bit, something Vash was used to seeing from people by now.  
  
'I just wanted you to know-'  
  
'Sir, unless you are somehow connected to my life, I don't give a damn about you. I don't care what your name is, where you've come from, where you're going, what you think, or what you need-even need from me. I travel alone, and I have no interest in discussing personal ethics, or anything else for that matter, with anyone.' Her tone was dismissive and slightly bitter, and Vash could tell that was his hint to leave, but he already felt involved with her and ignored it.   
  
'Why do you dress like that and talk like a man?'  
  
'That's rather obvious. Riding alone in itself is dangerous, riding alone as a woman is damn near suicide. Men have less of a reason to bother me if they think I'm a man as well. There are, of course, exceptions.' She turned around and picked up a loose, dark brown long sleeved shirt and pulled it over her head, then began to clean up the rags and water. Vash watched her, pity and sadness in his eyes.  
  
'Why ride alone at all?' he asked softly. She stopped and looked up from her bag which she had been packing things into.  
  
'Because it's easier that way,' she lied. 'Less food, less money, less attention, less problems.' She closed her bag with a snap. Vash sighed inwardly; she wasn't opening up to him-and he wanted her to! He loved listening to people talk, about their past, about their future, their family, their ups, their downs-everything. He sometimes talked about himself, but people were usually too wrapped up in themselves to ask or listen. And he wanted to at least try to make her see that there were many other ways to go about things, without killing anyone-even hurting them.  
  
'What's your name?'  
  
'None of your business. You already know more about me than you should. The more information you have, the greater the danger of me killing you.' She noticed he seemed unperturbed by her threat. ::Odd, odd man,:: she thought.   
  
Vash sat down on the bed, quirked his head to one side and studied her, his arms folded. She returned his gaze levelly, barely blinking. He judged her to be about 5'5, probably 5'7 with boots on, and weighed somewhere around 130 pounds. Her skin was rather pale, and from the small amount that he could see, there were scars aplenty. Her dark brown hair wasn't as long as he first thought, so it only came down to her shoulders. He saw a faint scar along her left jaw line, and her nose looked a bit off, as if it had been broken and then not set quite correctly. All in all, she was rather attractive, even if he couldn't tell what her chest size was; it didn't matter too much to him at the moment. But he didn't fully accept any of her answers, and continued prodding. 'Are you an outlaw?'  
  
'No, I'm not a wanted man. Or woman,' she added.  
  
'Then why are you riding alone so secretly? Being an outlaw is the only reason I can come up with.'  
  
'There are more reasons than being an outlaw to do what I do.' She walked over to her window, opening the curtains and looking out. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then turned to look at him. 'Listen, you seem like a nice guy. The fact that you came to make sure I was OK says so. So if you really care, you'll just leave the room and let me go my own way. You don't have any connection to me or my life, and I'd rather you stay out of it.' Vash unfolded his arms and pressed himself up.  
  
'So what are you going to do now?' She shrugged.  
  
'Sleep. I'm leaving tomorrow, on to the next town.'  
  
'Where are you heading?' He stepped closer to her, but she stayed where she was.  
  
'West,' she said simply. 'Seems like a nice enough direction.' They were both quiet for a moment.  
  
'OK,' Vash said sadly. 'I'll leave you alone. Just say goodbye to me before you leave, OK?' She nodded. He turned and walked to the door. As he was unlocking it, he stopped and turned back to her. 'Can you...please tell me your name. I swear I won't reveal it to anybody. I have no one to tell, please, you can trust me.'  
  
Her jaw tightened as she thought; yes, there was something very trustable in him-and trusting. She saw the trust of a child almost hidden in those eyes and she wished for a second to ask about his life. But the moment of hesitation passed and she coolly shook her head. Vash sighed, then nodded.  
  
'Good night.' He slipped out, and the woman walked quickly over to it, locking it with the key. She pressed her ear to the door. Footsteps, walking down the hall...and he was gone. She stayed there for a minute, pressing her forehead against the wood.  
  
'My name is Trieste...' she murmured to herself, as if he might somehow hear. Pushing away from the door, she shook her head and then began to stretch. She couldn't stay in shape by just riding on her horse, so had for many years kept up a daily workout. She rolled out a small blanket on the hard floor and continued to stretch before her sit-ups. An hour later Trieste heard familiar footsteps in the hallway and she paused from her push-ups; she was purely working her left arm now that her right shoulder was damaged, but she was proud she could do it one handed. She silently moved over to her door and listened again; his footsteps...a scraping of chair legs on the floor...footsteps, ever so light, back to her door and the almost inaudible thud of the chair being put back down.   
  
::He's staying outside my door!:: she thought to herself. ::What is with this guy? Doesn't he know when to back off? I'm lucky I heard him. Alright, Mr. Vash, I can play your game.:: Trieste walked across her floor, dressing, packing, getting ready to leave as silently as possible. This man was obviously going to cause problems for her, so she decided that leaving tonight was probably her best option. She would be unable to talk to the would-be thieves, but Trieste felt it was a sacrifice she'd have to make. She put everything by her window, though there wasn't much; just her shoulder bag, some extra clothing that couldn't be put into it, and her cloak. She tossed some money on the table as her room and board payment. Then she walked over to her lamp, this time making some sounds, and turned everything off. She walked over to her bed, and pressed her arms down on it, making the springs squeak to sound as if she had laid down. For a full minute she held still, then lifted her arms, letting the bed squeak one last time, as if she had found a better position. The ever so quietly she slid across the room, tossing on her cloak, slung her bag over her shoulder, and held the small bundle of cloths in the crook of her arm. The window opened noiselessly; she reached inside, closing the curtains and then the window. Silently, she tip-toed across the balcony. 'Goodbye Mr. Vash.'  
  
Once outside, Trieste paused and scanned the area. Almost all lights were out, except for a bar or two, and the sheriff's office. Not surprisingly, every light in every room was on in there. She knew she would have been questioned and honored tomorrow, part of the reason she wanted to leave as soon as she could. She took a longer look around, squinting sometimes. There was no stirring of life, no one on the streets. Straining her neck to see the big clock in town, she saw it was about 12:30. Satisfied no one was watching her, she shimmied down the balcony posts with a slight difficulty and swiftly made her way to the nearby stable her horse was kept. Everything was pitch black as she passed by the several Thomases and a few horses being kept until she found her horse. 'Hello, Miss,' she said affectionately, patting the brown and white-speckled horse on its side. 'It's a late night escape, so wake up!' Trieste quickly saddled the horse, gave her a last bit of food, then silently led the horse away. As they walked out of town, Trieste cheerfully and quietly talked to the horse. 'Well, where shall we go? I said West, so we can't go that way, and we just came from the East. So do we go North or South?' The horse nickered and tossed it's head. 'South? OK, South it is.' Trieste hoisted herself up and trotted out of town, due South.   
  
Someone had been watching, though. Two people in fact; one was in a bar, the other in a darkened window. It was not due to Trieste's incompetence that she missed them, but the fact that the two people survived by watching, by seeing without ever being seen. Once she was out of town and out of sight, both moved swiftly to their meeting place, got on horses, and sped separate ways. Her movements were of interest to them, and she was now a marked woman.  
  
*~*  
  
Vash yawned and stretched, cramped from a night's sleep in a chair. He smiled, figuring the woman was still in her room, sleeping soundly. Maybe he could find out more about her today-like her name. After quietly placing the chair back in the corner where it came from, he took a quick stop in the bathroom and came out to find a young woman opening Trieste's door and walking in with clean linen. He followed behind her and was more than surprised to see the room completely empty, the young woman pocketing the money. 'Miss, have you seen the man who was in here?'  
  
'Nome, sir, he must have skipped out early this morning. At least he paid in full.' The woman busied herself by changing the sheets, dusting, and at one point, opening the curtains and window at the far end of the room. Vash stared at the window, wondering where Trieste was. The it dawned on him.  
  
::She slipped out through the window! That little sneak!:: he thought admirably. Shrugging, he went downstairs and out to a small food store for breakfast-doughnuts and milk. As he sat outside on a bench, gobbling his breakfast and watching the people walk by, he began to think of the woman last night, wondering about her sadly. He didn't make a practice of chasing people down, they always seemed to find him. There was no rest for Vash the Stampede, even if the people on the planet Gunsmoke had forgotten his legend from so many years go. These people that Vash tried to protect, even as Knives tried to kill them all...Vash roused himself from the sad thoughts, and decided that whoever she was, it was Vash's duty to find the woman and try to stop her from killing more people. He felt oddly connected to her, and since he wasn't doing anything with his life at the moment anyway, why not go after her? How hard could it be to find her? ::So where did she go anyways? Well, she said West, so that is definitely out. Might as well forget about East, going in the opposite direction would be too obvious. North or South? Just where are you going...and where have you been?:: He tried to remember what towns were in each direction. ::Hmm...wait, is that really big city up North? Yeah! Biggest town in the area. A lot of information to be found there...yea, I'll bet she went North!:: So Vash got on his Thomas and began his trek further and further from his goal.  
  
*~*  
  
Riding her horse at a fair jog, Trieste heaved a sigh. The sun was now high in the sky, shining down on her in a blinding fashion. It would be a three day ride to get the town of Little Rhode, a ride she wasn't particularly looking forward to, especially with the wounded shoulder. As she rode, Vash drifted out of her mind and he was replaced by another. HIM. Her reason for going on. Yes, it was the thought of *him* that made her get up when she was all too ready to just lay down and give up. Legato was, when she couldn't seem to bear her situation any longer, the reason she did not put a bullet in her brain; she had to put one in his first. ::Goddamn you, Legato. Damn you for this life. You took my everything. Now I'm coming for you and I won't back down. I will not bow, I can't forget things you did. I will make you suffer, I swear. I will not stop riding until I am at your doorstep and no one will stop me from killing you.:: Her thoughts swirled around her mother, if only...that was what filled her head every night, the if only's and the what if's. What would her life be like had Legato never played a part? Maybe she would actually be happy. Maybe she wouldn't spend half her time sleeping in the empty dessert, wearing the same cloths for weeks at a time, dressing like a man, unable to enjoy the company of another human being.   
  
::Ah, hell. What's the point? I'll have my release, oh so soon. I can almost taste you, Legato. Come find me, you bastard.:: And her mind emptied itself of all thoughts except the pale sand ahead, the small town behind, and the searing hollowness of her surroundings. Her rides were mindless, thoughtless, almost trance like. She never rode her horse too hard because she didn't want it tired out, but always at a good pace so she could get where she was going. The nights were spent around a fire made of whatever Trieste brought to burn, and if it got too cold she would cover her horse first and then use whatever was left for herself. She slept at her horse's discretion, figuring that, as a human, she was more adaptable to a situation than her beast of burden. Her gun was always halfway unholstered, in case 'wanderers' found her small camp worth investigating. When she rode near water, she bathed herself, her horse, and her clothing. The rare times it rained, she pulled all her clothing out and set it all on stones and large rocks. It also made good, cheap drinking water. She also used the heavy sleeping blankets as protection from sandstorms that sometimes blew around the desserts. Her money was always kept on an inside pocket she had sewn onto most of her shirts and pants, though she never had a large amount of it anyway. Her cloths were made of durable fiber, but weather, time, and rough handling had weakened seams, faded colors, thinned material to the breaking point. She didn't own a single piece of clothing that was not sewn or patched up, even her pajamas; there had been plenty of times when she escaped and ridden in them. Only her cloak was holding up well, a few stitches needed here and there where the hood and cape attached to each other. Trieste spent the most money on her boots, which often got walked to pieces, and taking care of her sometimes expensive horse, a rarely seen animal on her planet. The little amount of money she made was received sometimes through odd jobs, but mostly petty theft-slight of hand tricks. Sometimes she pawned jewelry and things she picked up, such as the pearl necklace she had quickly lifted off one of the dead thieves in the bar. It would buy her a meal or two. The idea of stealing had long, long ago ceased to cause any guilt or qualms.  
  
'Oh, Miss, don't worry. We'll be done soon enough.' She patted her horse's neck affectionately. And after a while, her mind lost itself in the desert. Her three day journey had begun.  
  
*~* 


	4. Under Pressure

Still don't own Trigun. But the 'trademark' is mine.  
  
Note: I have taken the time line and attacked it like a chiropractor, so it is completely out of sync. This is after the series, but as if Legato never actually happened or existed back then (yes, that throws off a lot of the events in the series, but ah well). So there might be some slight spoilers (for those who have no idea about the City of July incident and stuff) but I don't think too many.   
  
I'm glad you like her name, Alucard, I always thought it was pretty cool as well. You and Bluesummers keep coming back, yay! ^.^ Don't worry, all your questions will eventually be answered.  
  
Thanks to Eria for a very thoughtful E-mailed review, it was appreciated. I hope I can entice you to read til the end.   
  
*~*  
  
Vash groaned; he had been traveling for two days and finally reached the large town, but no one had seen any remotely like the women, male or female. He had a fifty-fifty chance of getting to her and he blew it. Resigned, he stopped in a small bar. While slowly drinking, he began to listen in on a conversation two men were having nearby.   
  
'I'm really thinking about quitting,' muttered one man. 'I'm getting tired of my boss, and even more tired of my job. It's the same thing every day,' he complained. His friend laughed, gulping his drink.  
  
'So what the hell are you gonna do? You're just gonna keep running into this problem over and over again. People will stop hiring you.'  
  
'You know where there's a lot of money?'  
  
'Where?'  
  
'Being a bounty hunter.'  
  
'No shit.'  
  
'Damn, there's a Goddamned river of cash in that business, especially if you go for the violent guys. There's one guy, er uh...Legato Bluesummers. Craziest bastard there ever was! He's been on the scene for at least a decade and no one so much has seen his face. No one knows what he looks like, how old he is, or where he came from.'  
  
'Well, then how the hell does anyone know he exists?'  
  
'Because in the beginning, he let people go. They were blindfolded, so they never saw what anyone looked like but they all say if they ever heard that voice again, they'd remember. Now a days he's completely ruthless, let's nobody live, and has a whole bunch of men, practically an army at his disposal. They either never get caught, or are always dead if there's confrontation. Those that get captured alive are either broken loose or killed before the sheriff can get to em. Even in jail. And no one can explain how.' He finished his sentence with a mystical whisper, then finished his drink. His friend rolled the glass around the table, shaking his head.  
  
'Legato Bluesummers sounds like a man you shouldn't mess with. It's also one of the dumbest names I've ever heard.' He laughed a barking laugh and poured himself another drink. 'I mean, it's a damned mouthful. I bet his men just shorten it down. Like, Yo, Gato! Or how about LB?' Slightly sloshed, both men convulsed in laughter and the conversation drifted to the aspects of being a bounty hunter, none of which were true, accurate, or helpful. But for Vash, the previous conversation had been a proverbial goldmine.  
  
::LB? Legato Bluesummers! That's the name of the guy those thieves worked for! That's what's getting at her. That's why she's so secretive. Does she work for him? No, she wouldn't kill her fellow thieves. She must be after Legato. How the hell does she expect to catch him if she never saw him? Or did she...?:: Vash frowned. This was a very new development, and very helpful. He know nothing about being a bounty hunter or about this man Legato, but he'd find out. But in the mean time, he had to find the lady and convince her to let him stay around. He paid for his drink and was soon on his way South, hoping to catch up to her as soon as possible.  
  
*~*  
  
'Goddamn! I'm finally here!' Trieste breathed a sigh of relief as the small town loomed ahead. It was roughly two o'clock in the afternoon, hot as the Devil's bedroom, and Trieste had been cursing her luck-a worn water bottle had given way a few hours ago, leaving her and her horse in need of a good drink. As they got closer, Trieste slowed their pace; she was suddenly troubled. Something was wrong in this town, she knew it. Something deep inside her told her plain as day that trouble was to be had-very important trouble. Urging her horse in a wayward direction, Trieste entered the town indirectly, immediately noticing the lack of people and usual sounds. There was shouting. Peering around a corner, she saw a large group of townspeople bunched together on the main street, guns from many men pointed at them. A young man was standing apart, seeming to be arguing with one of the gunmen. Behind him a young woman with a little girl clutching her dress was watching them in terror. In fact, all eyes were on the apparently brave man who was taking a stand.  
  
'You can't do that! You're taking everything, what will we survive on? Please, we beg you, leave something for us to live!' The thief laughed.  
  
'When our boss gets pissed off, all suffer. You should know that. Besides, you need to learn to let go of material possessions, we'll all be dead soon enough.'  
  
'This isn't about having material possessions! This is about buying food and having enough money to pay for our houses!'  
  
Trieste sighed, and turned her horse away. The next town was only a few miles, she could survive without a drink for that length of time. The conversation behind her became garbled. Then what sounded like an explosion ripped through the air; it was a short round of gun fire. Closing her eyes, Trieste continued trotting away when a split second later a small voice ripped through the space: 'Maaaammaaaa!!!! Mommy! Mommy!' Trieste stopped her horse, and, gritting her teeth, began to turn around when more rounds were fired. The girl continued to scream, and there was a furious, terrified roar from the crowd. When Trieste looked around the corner, the young woman was lying in a bloody pool, the little girl beside her, shaking her and crying uncontrollably. A few feet away the young man also lay dying, reaching his arm towards the remains of his family. 'Li-sa...' The arm dropped.   
  
'When you argue with Legato, that is what happens! Remember that, kid.' The murderer laughed, dropping his gun in to his holster.   
  
'Fuckers!' Trieste cursed to herself, enraged. 'Legato again! Can I possibly be close? These bastards are *mine*...' She checked her gun, slipped down from her horse, and soon climbed her way onto a balcony of the building she was next to. It was an odd style, wrapping around the entire building and she found a window in the back to force open. She found herself in an empty man's bedroom, with a doorway facing the main road. She listened for movement downstairs, and when there was none, crossed to the door and opened it slightly. Looking out carefully, she could see two men on the street, one man on a roof, and another on a balcony across from her. There were more somewhere, but she couldn't see them. 'Roof boy, you're first to go.' She aimed, and quickly fired, then pulled down and shot the confused guard on the balcony. The man on the roof plummeted to the dusty street a few seconds later. People were yelling in the street and soon running away; after the first shot was fired, the thieves began diving for safety. She closed the door and, ducking under the window, began her descent downstairs. She could hear the thieves yelling to each other as she made her way down.  
  
'Goddamnit, where the hell did that come from?'  
  
'I don't know!! Maur and Dace are down! I think they're dead!'  
  
'I'll kill the bastard who did this!'  
  
Trieste opened another back window and slipped out, trying to hide from the people running away. Crouching behind random boxes and barrels, she surveyed the area and saw the hat of someone peering over boarded railing. She looked for the subtle Legato trademark and, when seeing it, carefully aimed and fired. There was a dull thud, a cloud of dust, and no movement.  
  
'Syo! Syo!!' No response. 'Alright you coward, come out here! It'll be a dual!' Trieste sneered.  
  
'An unfair dual!' she shouted harshly from behind her barrel. 'Your men are all around, I'll be shot on my first step out in the open! No, I think a dual would be a very foolish move on my part.' Silence followed and Trieste strained her ears. She heard the light crunch of footfalls in the dirt behind her, and swiftly turned around, aiming her gun.  
  
'No! No, don't shoot!!' A young girl, maybe nineteen, had crept up behind her and had thrown her hands up as if to stop Trieste's bullets. Savagely reaching up, Trieste grabbed her arm and jerked her down.  
  
'Damn fool, are you trying to get me shot?' She was about to continue when there was a shout from the thieves nearby.  
  
'Left side of the Red Stone Inn! Now!' Trieste looked up to see a man with a very large gun over his shoulder launch two whistling rockets in her direction.  
  
'Sweet Jesus!' Trieste pushed the terrified young woman out of her way and managed to throw the both of them across the space of the two buildings into a large window; the rockets, aimed crookedly, exploded against the building they had just been hiding against with an incredible force. It began to collapse, sliding into the building Trieste had catapulted herself into. She shoved the girl. 'Go, Goddamnit, go!!' It seemed like the world was falling apart around the two of them when Trieste heard the odd whistling of the rockets again. The explosion ballooned in front of the two of them and the young girl continued to scream. Trieste, still holding onto the woman, dove under a sturdy looking table and covered the girl with her body inadvertently; the roaring filled her ears and wood pierced her body and all she could breath was perfume scented dust. Silence suddenly dropped like a bomb, and the only sounds were her heart beating and the girl's terrified, racking gasps of air. It seemed so dark. Pushing herself up with her arms, Trieste groaned and dropped; her bullet wound hadn't healed too much, and this had just opened it again. In fact, her entire right arm was in increasing pain. Taking a deep breath, she grasped her gun as tightly as possible with her right hand and with her back, exploded out of the debris and dust with a furious roar. The girl at her feet squealed and curled up into a ball. The four thieves that had been left over had wandered into a group looked at her, shocked that anyone could survive, much less get out with such force. Trieste launched herself over table and collapsed second floors and ran towards the small group. Dumbstruck and confused they just watched as she threw herself into the closest man and tackled him. They rolled and he was on top; he grinned but it was quickly squelched by the feeling of cold steel against his chest. She slowly pushed him up with her gun until they were both standing up, him acting a shield between her and the other three. Forcibly she turned him around, narrowed her eyes, then spat blood onto the ground.  
  
'Listen, old man, we didn't have anything to do with you. You brought this on yourself!' The man with the rocket launcher seemed surprisingly empathetic, but she laughed.  
  
'You work for Legato, thus you have everything to do with me. Tell me, before I open up this young man's chest, where can I find Mr. Bluesummers?' Stunned silence.  
  
'You-you want to go find him? Are you crazy, old man?' asked a middle aged, bushy-haired thief. He stared at her over chubby cheeks in disbelief. 'You don't want to find Legato, he'll find you.' Trieste sneered, though they couldn't see it.  
  
'That's the problem, he *hasn't* found me. So you can take me to him. Right now. I am only patient for so long.' The men looked at each other, baffled.  
  
'Listen,' said Trieste's captive. 'if Legato hasn't killed you yet it's because he hasn't felt like it. He's a busy man, he can't be bothered by every person who has a petty grudge against him for relieving them of their mortal possessions-aaah! Goddamnit!' Trieste pistol-whipped him against the side of his head with her gun, though careful to not knock him out.  
  
'Why I want to find him is of no concern of yours. I just want to find him and discuss some...business with him. Just take me there and it's the last you'll ever hear from me again.'  
  
'Yea, you'll be dead!' remarked her captive caustically. She tapped him where she had hit him before.  
  
'Hold your tongue, or I'll shoot it off from behind you.' The young man closed his mouth, casting a pleading look to his companions. The other three looked at each other and talked quietly. The man with dark brown hair and a stud earring in his ear lobe-apparently the make shift leader-kept shaking his head vigorously. Finally the chubby man and the rocket launcher man gave up. The leader turned back to Trieste.  
  
'We can't tell you where Legato is. We're sworn to secrecy.' Trieste shook her head.  
  
'That's too bad.' The man in front of her closed his eyes and prepared for the gunshot that would end him, hoping all that Legato had said and done was worth it. But when the shot rang out, it didn't hit him; it didn't even come close. Trieste had reached around him and shot the leader in his leg, right above the knee. He collapsed, holding the bloody wound and screaming aloud, often in a language neither Trieste nor anyone understood. 'Now, will you tell me where Legato is?'  
  
'You-you're down right cruel!' gasped out the bleeding man painfully. 'No! I will not betray Legato!' Trieste rolled her eyes, almost laughing at the irony of his statement.  
  
'Fine, maybe someone else will!' She was about to shoot the man with the rockets when a clamor rose up in the town and a large group of man with guns came running up, obviously pissed off beyond belief. 'Oh, shit!' Groaning angrily, she threw her captive into the group, forcing him to trip over the one on the ground. She dashed back behind the building that had fallen on top of her and watched what would happen. As the crowd came upon the small band of thieves, the three men opened fired very quickly, but it was no use; there were too many people and soon all three were shot dead; the fourth had stayed on the ground and was being ignored. The crowd cheered. Trieste decided it was time to leave; now that the stupid people had killed the men of Legato before she could get her questions answered, she would have to continue to wander without any sort of information.   
  
'Oh! You're OK! Thank God!' The young woman Trieste had accidentally helped, bruised and battered but in one whole piece, had seemed to come out of no where and grabbed Trieste's arm. 'Come on, you have to meet the people in town! You're a hero!' And with a surprisingly hard pull, the young girl tried to drag Trieste into the street; Trieste shook her head and tried to pull away. It was rather difficult, for the girl was actually quite strong and Trieste was wounded. But she finally managed to wrench herself free and shove the girl into the street, yelling at her 'NO!' But a series of events suddenly covered that all up.  
  
The young woman had been pulling herself out quietly during Trieste's conversation and found another way out to avoid being seen. When the crowd began cheering she had come out to greet them, but was stopped when she saw her saving figure duck behind the wall again. While the two women struggled against each other, the fallen leader was staring in the direction angrily; he knew the bastard who had screwed up their plans was over there. Slowly, slowly he had been reaching up the rocket launched laying on the ground, dropped when the man had been shot several times. Turning it around he pushed it up slightly and, as a yell went out he was still alive, he fired the rocket into the next building, and it all came tumbling down. At that precise moment Trieste had shoved the girl into the street; the self sacrifice to save the girl, so evident to the people watching, was nothing but a fluke and Trieste knew she would pay for it as the wood and glass engulfed her. Then there was nothing.  
  
*~*  
  
Vash trotted along, disappointed as ever. He had passed through the town he met the damned woman in three days ago, and was beginning to think of just giving up and not worry about her. He was much relieved to see the town and quickened his Thomas's pace. ::What a nice looking town,:: he thought as he came through. Then he came to the three destroyed buildings and stopped his Thomas, staring. It had been a long time since he had seen this much damage in one small town. Men were working to clear the wood and glass, while women provided the food and water. Vash did a double take when he saw a lovely young woman, wearing pants and shirt, helping with some of the physical work. He was about to yell out to her when he quickly realized it wasn't her; this girl was more slender, had longer hair that was dark blonde, and a much younger face. He trotted up to a group of men taking a break.  
  
'Hello!' he called out, giving a wave. The men raised their hands in a friendly greeting back.  
  
'Hiya, sir.'  
  
'What happened here?' Vash asked, looking around.  
  
'Well stranger,' said one. 'about a week ago a group of seven men came into town very early morning and basically rounded up the entire town family by family. They took everything-emptied our bank, our homes, anything of value was taken to their very large cart. One very good, upstanding young man-Jenis Hadway-began to plead with them to leave something for us to survive. They all laughed and Jenis's lovely wife also spoke up, at one point called them beasts without hearts. Well...' the man paused sadly. 'Well, sir, it pains my heart to say it, but they shot that lovely young lady dead right there in the street.' Vash gasped.  
  
'No! How could they? Oh...' He unsuccessfully tried blink back tears.  
  
'Well, Jenis was enraged and he rushed the shooter, but he was shot down, too.' Vash closed his eyes, hanging his head. 'Those bastards,' the man said angrily. 'They left a poor four year old girl without a mother or father-and she saw it.' Vash put his hand to his face, covering his tears. The man sighed and one of his friends spoke up.  
  
'The thing is, while we were all shocked and feeling completely helpless, something crazy happened. We heard two quick gunshots and one of the thieves-he had been on a roof-came tumbling down, dead. Well, we all ran because the thieves had ran into hiding. Now everything I'm about to tell you is from that remarkable young lady right there.' He pointed to the working girl. 'Apparently Liana-that's her name-had snuck behind some buildings as well and came upon a crouching figure who almost shot her but when saw she was one of us, pulled Liana down to protect her. Then a thief with a gun that shot exploding bullets shot into the building they were next to and the cloaked man grabbed Liana and threw themselves into a building next door-through the window! Well, that thief shot again-front of the building-and Liana thought they were gonna die. Well, that man tossed em under a table and they both survived!' Vash quickly swiped his eyes, intrigued.  
  
'A-a cloaked man? What's his name?' asked Vash urgently.   
  
'Oh, I'll get there! Apparently he managed to get out from the rubble and got into a fight with the four remaining men. Oh, yeah, he had killed a third guy at some point-forgot. Anyways, by this time we had all gotten our guns and came back. Those sons-a-bitches began to shoot us but we got them, killed all four.'  
  
'Well, at least we thought we did,' interjected a third man. 'While we were all standing around cheering, Liana had gotten herself out and found the cloaked man. She tried to get him to come out, but she said he was shy or embarrassed or something, cause he didn't want to come out-' The first man interrupted.  
  
'While this was going on, one of the men was still alive and I guess pissed at the man who had stopped them so he managed to move the big gun with exploding bullets enough and shot the building Liana and the man were next tp. Well, that man must have heard the bullets because he pushed Liana out of the way to save her. Everything fell on top of him.'  
  
'Was he...dead?'  
  
'No, sir!' said the second man, shaking his head. 'We all rushed to get him out and cleared away the wood. When we found him and got him out, you won't believe what we found out-he's a woman!' Vash froze. He had found her!  
  
'Tell me, where is she? Did she leave?'  
  
'Leave? Friend, she's asleep in Sunny Tavern. Hasn't really woken up, but the doc says she'll be fine. She was all bruised up, cut, fractured her ribs, broke her right arm and leg. She had a bullet wound right here-' he pointed to his right shoulder. 'that had been beginning to heal, but the doc had to stitch it up after that.'  
  
'Do you think the doctor would allow me see her?' asked Vash tentatively. The men all shrugged.  
  
'Dun see why not, stranger. Say, what's your name?'  
  
'Vash,' he said with a smile and got off his Thomas. 'Any idea where I put my ride?' He patted the sides of his Thomas affectionately.  
  
'Sure, Sunny Tavern has their own stable. The girl's horse is staying there, too. Smart creature, won't let anybody ride it or get near the bags. I wonder how she managed to train it, or afford one for that matter. We barely ever see horses, though they are becoming slightly more common these days.'  
  
Vash shrugged. 'I know I could never afford one! But thank you for your help. My most heart felt sympathy for this town and that poor little girl. Does she have anyone to take care of her?' The men all vigorously nodded.  
  
'We look after each other in this town. She'll probably live with Liana and we'll all take care of her. We take care of our own, and any others who wander into town. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Mr. Vash.' Vash waved his hands.  
  
'Just Vash. I think I'll stay for a while-thank you for the invitation.' Tipping his head, Vash led his Thomas towards the Sunny Tavern. As he passed the three demolished buildings, he sighed sadly. The pretty Liana was working as hard as the men, lifting beams of wood and splintered tables into piles. Vash decided he would come back, not only to lend a hand, but to get to know Liana.   
  
*~* 


	5. Little Things

*~*  
  
I don't own Trigun, but Liana and the townspeople are mine.  
  
I'd glad you like it Eria! I'd love some fan art, that would rock. As for her name (here comes the long explanation)--  
  
Originally, she was going to be named one of my favorite names, Trista, which is the female version of Tristan, which (from all the sources I've read) has Celtic roots, and it means riot or tumult. It also has connections to the Latin 'tristus' which indeed means sad.   
  
I was also considering Triste, which in French and Spanish means sad, something I was aware of, and thought would be rather metaphorical. When I was spell-checking my story in Word, it obviously didn't recognize Trista or Triste, (since it is not a common name or English) but when I went to add it to my dictionary, I saw that an option for her name was Trieste. I thought it was an even better name so I kept that instead. I recently found out that Trieste is a city in Italy, so I have some research to do.  
  
So her name when from riot/sad to an Italian city!  
  
And one more thing! (Last one, I promise!) I'm not going to have an update for a long time, as of May 20, 2003 as I am graduating from High School on the 25th. Between last minute work, graduation itself, getting into summer, and all sorts of things, I'm not going to have too many chances to get on the computer. But worry not! It's here in my head, and I will finish the story.   
  
*~*  
  
Trieste did not have a solid memory of the past week at all; it was just muffled, blurred sounds and images that faded away. Sharp pain brought her back to lucidity and in these few precious moments, she realized she was drugged, she was seriously wounded, and that she was in the hands of strangers. But soon she would float away again, forgetting everything around her. The past day and a half were better, though; the doctor wasn't drugging her up every few hours-or every time she *moved*. She wondered vaguely if he worked for Legato, but she figured she'd be dead by now if he did. The nights were particularly odd, because there was a candle on a table next to the bed-why they didn't use regular lights, she didn't understand-and when she watched it too long, the flame morphed into large specters dancing across her ceiling. She could hear Legato and see his shadow, but he always slipped away, laughing. She was finally able to move body parts coherently and she moved as much as she could, not knowing when she'd fall back into a drug induced haze.   
  
::Damn that doctor,:: she thought numbly as things went out of focus. She groaned and tried to keep her eyes open; now she was imagining that man, Vash, was in the room and looking down at her worriedly. He seemed to care about her welfare. She could actually feel his hand caressing her face gently. ::What the hell kind of drugs are they giving me?:: she wondered. She could hear him now, asking if...she could hear him. She laughed then went back to sleep. ::The drugs must be in the food,:: she mused and all was dark.  
  
*~*  
  
Vash's eye watered up when he saw the female figure on the bed. She was wrapped up and bandaged everywhere, Vash almost didn't recognize her. Whoever had dressed her had put on a long, white cotton skirt and a man's white blouse to clothe her, which was slightly disconcerting for Vash. He walked slowly to her and was surprised to find her eyes open-hazy and unfocused, but open. Unable to control himself, he reached out and ran his hand lightly over the side of her face that wasn't bandaged up, half expecting her to grab his hand and break his wrist. He leaned down closer.  
  
'Hi, ma'am.' No real response. 'Can you hear me?' He was startled by a bubble of laughter and then her eyes slowly closed. Vash looked around, grabbed a stool from the corner, then sat down next to her bed. He ran his hand over her hair, feeling his affection grow for the sleeping woman. He knew there was a lot more to the story than what he had been told-the real reason she had practically sacrificed her life for the girl she didn't know. While he found it hard to believe she was as ruthless as she described herself, he knew she was definitely not the hero type. 'When you wake up, you're going to tell me your story, young lady.' Vash then made a critical mistake: he leaned in and whispered in her ear 'I can be trusted, I will help you deal with that Legato man, but I will not let you kill him.' Then he got up and left to get himself a room.  
  
After registering and paying, Vash went to his Thomas to unpack his meager belongings. When he came back to his room, he found Liana folding sheets onto his bed. Her hair was pulled back into a half-hung bun, and she had washed the dirt off her face and arms. In fact, she had changed into a light blue dress with short sleeves and a pleated skirt. She was humming quietly as she finished tucking in the blanket. She bent down, picked up the sheets that were on the floor, and turned around to find Vash watching her.  
  
'Oh, sir! You startled me! Can I help you?' Her voice was sweet and pretty to Vash, and her green eyes reflected warmness that rivaled his own. Vash immediately liked her very much.  
  
'Oh, no I just came to put my stuff in my room. You're Liana, right?' When she nodded, he stuck out his hand to shake. 'I'm Vash, very pleased to meet you. How have you been?'  
  
'Oh, I see you've been told our story. Yes, I am doing well enough. If it wasn't for that girl, I don't know what this town would have done. She was very brave-and kind,' she added falteringly. Vash quirked an eyebrow.  
  
'Kind doesn't seem to be the word you want to use.' She hesitated, and Vash smiled openly. Waving his hand, he motioned towards the bed. 'Sit down and tell me what you're really thinking.' He grabbed a chair from across the doorway and sat across from her.  
  
'Well...' Sitting on the bed, she thought hard, trying to be as specific as she possibly could. 'She was kind in her actions, but not in her manner. She seemed so angry and rough. I can understand being annoyed with me wandering around, but everything about her seemed bitter. I got the feeling she didn't want to be doing what she was doing. Like it was an aggravation.' She looked at her hands in guilt. 'I mean, I feel horrible saying that, but-'  
  
'It's what you felt,' Vash interrupted smoothly. 'Tell me, do you know who these men worked for? Did they say at all?'  
  
'Oh, yes, some man named Legato Bluesummers. They said we had offended him but I can't imagine how.' She frowned, thinking. 'I just don't understand what took them so long. I mean, we were in the streets for hours upon hours, needless hours. You'd think they were waiting for a signal to leave. It was maddening.' She paused and sighed. 'I just hope some one finds that Legato and locks him up for what he did to this town. He is astoundingly cruel. A-a soul gone mad!' She suddenly stood up. 'Oh, I've been talking and talking, I have to go and take care of the other rooms. My mother-she and my father own this tavern-would not be pleased if I didn't get the other rooms prepared. I will see you later, Mr. Vash.' Vash stood up and bowed.  
  
'Just Vash, please. It was a pleasure meeting you, I hope to see you around often.' She smiled and looked down, then walked out. Vash closed the door behind her ::Pretty lady!!:: he thought with a large grin. He flopped onto his bed and, after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, dozed off into a much needed nap. When he shook himself awake hours later, the sun was beginning to fade and his room was lit up with a fiery orange that burst through his open windows. Yawning, he wandered downstairs just in time to see a man who looked to be in his mid-forties packing up a small black bag.  
  
'My visits to her will be done soon from what I can see. It has been quite a while since I've handled a patient that badly damaged, but I think she will be fine.' The middle aged woman he was talking to nodded. She was about to speak when Vash quickly made his way over to the two.  
  
'Are you the doctor taking care of the girl upstairs?' The doctor, somewhat startled by Vash's sudden appearance, put his bag back on the floor and nodded.  
  
'I am indeed. Why?'  
  
'I was very touched when I heard her story, and I was wondering how well she's healing.' The doctor smiled kindly.  
  
'Well, your concern would be well-appreciated I imagine. Well, let me see...firstly, despite the extent of the harm done to her, she is far less wounded than I was expecting. When those men pulled her from the wreckage, I hardly thought she would be alive. Not only did she have broken bones and cracked ribs, a previous bullet wound was opened up. She had a fever for a few days. I think this greatly upset her.' Vash looked at the doctor oddly.  
  
'I thought she was unconscious-'  
  
'Oh, yes, well, look at it this way. When I was a child, I had a fever. My hands felt just like...two balloons. It was rather discomforting because I would feel like I was awake but could never be sure. The fact that I couldn't tell the difference between dreams and reality was almost maddening at times. This young lady has a fever and I've been giving her more sedatives and drugs than I've ever given another patient her size. But she keeps waking up! When she should be out cold I see her opening her eyes and trying to move her arms, and I don't think she liked whatever her drug-induced dreams showed her. And also, her body is quite literally fighting the drugs, so I've been forced to give her more to keep her out of pain. I've been letting them drop because she's healing relatively quickly.'  
  
'I am very glad to hear that. I was wondering, do you know anything about her? Has she ever been awake enough to talk?' The doctor shook his head.  
  
'No, never coherently. The only clear words I ever head were 'Damn doctor and his drugs' and very often at that. She also called out for a 'Miss' once or twice. We finally figured that it was her horse; there's a fancy 'M' engraved onto the saddle. The horse won't let us get to the bags, and we don't feel like pushing it. So, basically, we know nothing about her except she's strong, an excellent shot, the gun she carries is quite unique, and portrays herself as a man-at least she did to us.'  
  
'Well, I hope she feels better soon. I'm glad she has a competent care-giver.' The doctor smiled and picked up his bag.  
  
'Thank you. Well, I must be going. Good bye, I will see you tomorrow.' Vash waved happily and the doctor walked out.  
  
*~*  
  
Trieste opened her eyes wide. She could see clearly, more importantly, she could *think* clearly. She picked up her left arm and wriggled her fingers, stiff and sore, but under her control. Her right arm was bandaged too tightly to be moved very much. She tried to move her legs. The left was sore as well, but mobile; her right knee was wrapped up and her whole leg was painful as well. She soon realized there was a cast over her shin. She gingerly touched her stomach and ribs and winced as she pressed tender areas. All in all, though, she was in good condition, considering half of a Goddamned building fell on top of her. The wrapping around her face was infuriating, but she didn't remove it. She picked up her head slightly, groaning at the stiffness of her neck. The room was somewhat small, but a good enough size for a single traveler only staying for a night or two. It was roughly twelve feet wide and sixteen feet long with the bed, a dresser, a small nightstand, and a stool that was next to the bed. It was cozy, really. Trieste groaned. She wasn't used to cozy and she just wanted to find Legato. She remembered her hallucination of Vash and then joltingly recalled his last message to her, something about trusted, helping, and not killing Legato.  
  
'Well, what the hell does that mean? Visions of Vash have nothing to do with Legato. What kind of drugs did the guy give me?!' She groaned and tried to get out of bed. It resulted in her collapsing on to the ground and an extreme effort to cut short a pained cry. 'Good God in Heaven, argh!' She tried to lift herself with just her left arm, but fell again. 'Fuck.' Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the top of her bed and began to hoist herself up onto her left leg and was soon shakily standing on her one leg mostly, barely able to stand. She looked around for something to hold herself up with, but there was nothing she could move around with. She sat down on her bed angrily. 'Damnit, I want to get out of here!' But even as she said the words, she realized the folly of her sentiment; she couldn't survive like this in the dessert. She would *have* to wait until she healed. 'Well, I will not remain bed ridden! I'm gonna find that doctor and get some crutches. I'll make my own if I have to!' She tried to ignore the foolishness of her mind set by figuring out how she was going to get to the doorway. The bed, of course, was on the right side and she needed to lean on her left. Sighing, she slid to the end of the bed then, as gently as she possibly could, lowered herself to the floor. Pushing and pulling with her left limbs, she managed to get to her closed door after an excruciatingly long time. Quite exhausted, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and breathed raggedly. The drugs were still working through her system and the fact that she hadn't left her bed in God knows how long didn't help matters much. Everything pained her, her entire body protested against the rough movement. She sat wondering how she was going to move about in the hallways when the door opened and the woman she had accidentally saved walked in with a tray of food. She didn't see Trieste on the floor, so she was quite shocked when she saw the empty bed.  
  
'Oh, no! Where did she go?' She walked in and placed the food down on the small nightstand. 'How did she move?'  
  
'I'm not so weak that I can't get around, even if my arm and leg is broken,' Trieste said from her position on the floor. The woman whirled around, somewhat shocked.  
  
'You-what are you doing?' She rushed down and sat down next to Trieste worriedly. 'I don't think the doctor wants you moving around yet.'  
  
'Too damn bad. I would very much like some crutches so I can walk around, though, so if you could tell him to get me some right away, that would be very nice.' The woman's green eyes widened at her request, and she shook her head vigorously.  
  
'You need to gain your strength first.'  
  
'The only way I'll 'gain strength' is by moving around and working my un-bandaged muscles. Thank you, but I know how my body works. I know what it needs. So some crutches are all I want.' The woman sighed, resigned.  
  
'Well, fine, we'll get you crutches. But please get back into bed for now.' She got up and leaned over to help move Trieste, but she pushed her hand away.  
  
'I'd rather go downstairs, if you please.' The woman shook her head firmly.  
  
'No, I'm sorry, with your immobility, you'll just be in the way. You stay in bed until you get the crutches.' She reached down to help Trieste up again, but she pushed the hand away a second time.  
  
'If I got here, I can get back there.' Trieste then slowly and even more painfully crawled back to the bed and somehow hoisted herself back up, the young woman watching with a frown and folded arms. Trieste pulled the blankets back over her body and propped herself against the backboard of the bed frame; she then looked at the standing woman expectantly. 'Are there any drugs in the food this time? Cause I would really like some un-drugged food. I prefer to be awake, I don't care how much it hurts.' The woman laughed.  
  
'You're only saying that because you know the worst is over. You don't have to pull that bravado with me, you're not a man.' Trieste sneered and looked at the woman with a cool eye.  
  
'It's not bravado, and I think I'm well aware of what gender I am. No more drugs,' she restated firmly. If the woman was offended by Trieste's attitude, she didn't show it.   
  
'There are no drugs in your food, and we'll be sure that none are added in the future. You can stay awake and keep your pain you're so proud of.' Trieste frowned again.  
  
'It's not pride...and wouldn't you prefer to be conscious of what's going on around you?' The woman smiled gently and stepped closer to the bed.  
  
'No, I would trust that the doctor knows what he is doing. We can all afford a break from reality in the care of others.'   
  
'I can't. But if you'll excuse me, I'd like to feed myself in private.'   
  
'Oh, of course. My name is Liana, by the way. What's yours?'  
  
'I don't tell that to people.' Liana gave her an odd look.  
  
'What, is it something very strange? You don't need to be embarrassed by it, you know.' Trieste just picked up her food tray and calmly began to eat.  
  
'I prefer to not tell anyone it, that's all.' When it became apparent to Liana that Trieste wasn't going to talk, she shrugged and walked out, closing the door behind her. During her meal, Trieste contemplated her situation carefully and was quite annoyed that she honestly had to judge herself almost completely helpless in her situation. Annoyed, but also worried. She didn't know what the people were like, or if Legato would send his men after her. Nothing would have made Trieste happier before, but death was assured considering her position. She couldn't ride, there was no where to hide, and the family was obviously keeping an eye on her. 'GodDAMNit! How the hell am I going to get out here?'  
  
*~* 


	6. Calm Like A Bomb

Whoo-hoo! Trigun doesn't belong to me!!   
  
Here's a better physical description of Trieste, mostly so I can get some fanart from Eria!! ^.^  
  
Height: 5'5, about 5'7 with boots on (so slightly taller than usual).  
  
Weight: 130 pounds.  
  
Hair: Dark brown, should come a bit lower than her chin. Choppy, you know, it has the look of a five minute clip done by herself without a mirror. The front strands often pulled back with a band, or maybe even a full pony-tail at times. Dirty and kinda scraggly-she is in the dessert a lot, you know.  
  
Eyes: Pale grey blue, icy.  
  
Skin color: I imagine her with Hispanic/European roots, so she should have a deeper skin tone, Puerto Rican is probably a good basis to go from. This means any scars would be lighter (I'll get to them later).  
  
Body type: Think Legato with breasts and just not as tall. Broad shoulders, longer legs and arms, muscular but not bulky. If you know people who do crew/track/swimming, that's more her body type. Tightly-coiled muscle that can pack a wallop. Her chest is fairly small, an A-cup if that (just so you have an idea). Long fingers, calloused, with chipped finger-nails (I doubt anyone would draw to such detail, but it gives a good visual for everyone).  
  
Face: Her face isn't as long and angular as Vash's, more of a rounded oval. Strong cheekbones. Her nose has been broken at least once or twice, so it should be a bit off in the bridge. The nostrils should be small, rounded and not pointy. Big eyes-not anime big, but wide. Full lips, a tinge darker than the rest of her face. Regular ears, not pierced (no jewely or tattoos on this girl). She has all her teeth, though. When she smiles, a *real* smile that is, there is actual warmth and friendliness, but most of the time it's very cold, maybe cruel, or a smirk. Her eyebrows are the same color as her hair, not too bushy, just an overlay above her eyes.   
  
Scars: There's a thin, long dash across her left jaw line, from the 'bend' of the bone to her chin almost. I have quite a number of scars-and proud of it!-and all mine are lighter than my skin color, so hers should be as well (assuming I'm a normal human being, biologically speaking). Her hands are calloused (riding a horse all day and such can be quite tough I imagine) and have a few short scars, as if she had punched through glass. I'm not completely sure what a scar from a bullet wound would be, but she has one in her right shoulder and the middle (roughly) of her stomach area. Non scars, but lingering marks from wounds/cuts/scrapes tend to be reddish, and they're dispersed all over her body.   
  
Clothing: She dresses mostly in greys/reddish browns. Her pants are a darkish brown, tight at the waist (like elastic) and wide at the ankle. No belt. She also has a grey pair of the same type. She has a few shirts, wide and shapelss with a high collar, no zippers or buttons. A few are short sleeved, others are long, all are a reddish brown. The cloak is a dark brown, coming down to her feet with a deep hood that can completely cover her face. Think Strider's cloak when you first see him in Lord of the Rings, just covering more of his face. Heavy black boots, high shoe lace mostly hidden by the pants (the boots come about half-calf). Her riding gloves cover the palms and upper portion of her hands and the straps lace between her fingers, but the fingers themselves are unprotected. Her gun is held in an over the shoulder and chest holster, under-cover cop style, so that it's hidden by the cloak, which generally envelopes her body.   
  
The gun: I have no idea at the moment, I need to do some research on weaponry.   
  
About her injuries: despite all the crazy shit I've done in my life, I've never seriously injured myself, so I have no idea what Trieste's healing time would be. I think it goes by pretty quickly, but that's partially on purpose and partially cause, well, I have no idea how long her healing really would take.   
  
Thanks again, Alucard. My graduation rocked, too. Woot!!  
  
*~*  
  
Trieste did not 'get out' for a long time. Over a period of time she lost many bandages, and the doctor did indeed bring the crutches, but Liana and her parents refused to let Trieste downstairs. When demanding the reason, the parents merely said she just couldn't, but Liana was much more straight-forward about it.  
  
'Like I said before, you'll be in everyone's way! You can barely move around without falling, and everyone will stop what they're doing to pick you up. No, stay up here so you don't waste our time.' Trieste hadn't been talked to like that since she was little, and was coolly indignant, but begrudgingly stayed upstairs and tried to walk around her bedroom and took trips to the bathroom down the hall. There had been several times when she fell down, which worried Trieste because while moving around was good, falling down would only aggravate her injuries. And it was embarrassing if anyone was around to watch, though there usually wasn't. One time a young man had come by just in time for her loose grip and topple, and when he helped her up, there was cruel amusement in his eyes. She didn't like him at all, and only ventured out of her room to go to the bathroom; the fact that the room doors didn't have locks made her very uncomfortable. She was also extremely bored so Liana brought books for her to read, but Trieste was done with them in a matter of days. Thankfully, upon her request, they gave Trieste her regular clothes and, more importantly, her gun back. She was also given several maps to plan her next journey. She was not aware of Vash's presence, however. He never came by because he was too busy helping rebuild the buildings, and gaining Liana's friendship. He always asked how she was doing, but he and Liana were so busy, neither of them had much time to visit Trieste. It didn't help things that she was rather unfriendly towards potential visitors, either. The only time anyone could came in (except Liana's mother to bring food) was late at night when she was asleep. The doors were well oiled, nothing squeaked, and she was rarely woken up. These were the few times Vash managed to get himself into the room and watch her. He liked her asleep; she was peaceful, not angry or violent. He had once fallen asleep in a chair and was unknowingly lucky that she did not wake to find him there.   
  
This went on for three agonizing weeks, driving Trieste mad with boredom and growing fear. Surely Legato knew what had happened by now, and he would furious that his men were killed by regular townspeople. She was a hero, and Legato could easily find her through her fame. This was everything she hadn't wanted to happen, and she couldn't find anyone to be angry with except Legato, and her own fury increased with each passing day. This, and her determination, was what made her finally come downstairs two days after the ending of the third week, moving with much more grace than what was expected of her. When she had allowed herself a rest and sat down on a kitchen chair, the mother plopped some fruit in front of her with a knife and cutting board.   
  
'If you're gonna be down here,' she said, 'you're gonna help out with the food you eat.' Irritated, Trieste dutifully began to chop the fruit as she watched the door and all the people walking outside. As she cut the fruit, she looked up and out the door to see Vash walking by outside, Liana at his side. Her eyes followed him, his laughing face burning itself into her brain. *He was here!* Her heart stopped in mid-beat as she practically dropped the knife in her hands. That seemingly kind man who was barely worth noticing had been here the entire time. She hadn't dreamed him talking to her that night, Vash had really been there. And he knew about Legato...  
  
'Um, ma'am, how long has the blond-haired fellow been in town? I don't remember seeing him before.' The woman, busy cooking another part of the dinner for the night, didn't even look up from her pot as she answered.  
  
'Oh, him? That's Vash. Showed up about a week after you did, heard your story, saw our wrecked town-and Liana-and offered to help fix things until you got better. Nice guy, real kind. He was quite concerned about ya.'  
  
'Oh, really?' Trieste asked, keeping the suspicion out of her voice.   
  
'Sure. Likes to visit you at night, though he doesn't want you to know. Hmm, guess I wasn't supposed to tell you that, but it don't matter. We're just glad he's around, Vash works real hard. And after work, he and Liana are thick as thieves.' The mother cackled, then began to chop vegetables. 'People ask me if I'm worried cause she spends so much time with him, but Liana can hold her own. She's a tough girl, I'm very proud of her.'  
  
Trieste had barely heard her, though. ::Visits me at night? Knows about Legato? Hasn't announced himself to me? No...yes, it must be true. He was *taunting* me that night! He was mocking me because I was helpless and knew I'd never be able to defend against Legato. No! Against himself! Vash is here to kill me for Legato!:: A million thoughts ran through her mind, all his bullshit about never taking a human life, but she forced herself to stay physically calm. Slowly getting up, she washed her knife off and pretended to put it in its drawer, but stealthily slipped the knife into her pocket. She figured it was always good to have a surprise for her enemy, especially now.  
  
The two didn't see each other until the end of that week. Trieste had spent more and more time downstairs and outside, speeding up her recovery as much as possible. One day she was resting in the sitting room, thinking about her situation when Vash and Liana walked in. Liana was happily telling Vash about parts of her childhood, but stopped in mid-sentence when they found Trieste sitting in the chair.  
  
'Oh! Hello, young lady. How are you feeling?' Trieste stared at Vash in the eye, not answering the question for a moment.  
  
'I'm well. Should only be a week and half until I'm ready to ride,' she replied, although this was untrue; she felt ready to ride that very day.  
  
'Oh, well, you should stay the full two weeks then, just to be safe. But I'm being very rude. Ma'am, this is Vash, a traveler like yourself. Vash, this is the young lady who saved me and our town.' Vash bowed low.  
  
'An honor to meet you finally, Miss...?' Trieste didn't answer, but continued to stare unblinkingly at him. Liana stepped in.  
  
'Ah, she still hasn't told us her name. She is quite distrustful of us, even after all this time.'  
  
'Don't take it personally,' Trieste muttered. Vash stood up, a blank expression on his face. Then he turned to look at Liana, smiling.  
  
'Liana, would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water? I'm rather thirsty.' Liana nodded, gave Trieste a quick, annoyed look, then flounced out of the room. Vash leaned against the door frame, openly grinning at Trieste now. 'Well, now, this is quite the situation we have here. Shall we go on pretending we don't know each other? I must say, that shall become more and more difficult, especially when I leave with you.'  
  
'We shall not have to go on pretending because we *don't* know each other. You deceitful ass! I told you to stay away from me before I left! I do not want your company, and I regret ever laying eyes on you.' Vash's smile melted off his face and he walked towards her. She jumped up rather swiftly and pointed her gun at his chest.  
  
'Listen, I just want to help you-'  
  
'Bullshit! No one knows I'm searching for Legato except me, him, and his men. It's obvious where you should be classified. It's only the barest sense of decency for these people that I don't kill you right now, but that will only go so far. So I warn you now, stay away from me. I can stay awake for days, so don't try to come into my room ever again.'  
  
The entire time Trieste talked, Vash went from concern to surprise, to down right shock. He shook his head, taking another step. 'Wait a minute, let me explain, I'm not-'  
  
'Don't come any closer,' she commanded, cocking her gun. 'I'll say this for the last time. Don't fuck with me, or they'll find you in a ditch, Liana by your side.' She sneered. 'It'll be another double-funeral.'  
  
Vash gaped, appalled and enraged. 'You have no shred of decency, do you?' he asked in a furious whisper. 'How dare you threaten Liana and mock these people, after all they did for you! How can you be so cruel as to *threaten* the very people who worked so hard to help you?' Trieste just smiled cynically, put her gun away and sat down. A moment later Liana came in with a tray of three glasses, a pitcher, and a plate of tiny, pre-wrapped sandwiches for all three. She looked at Vash's troubled countenance and frowned.  
  
'What's wrong?' Vash snapped his head and stared at Liana for a few seconds, searching her face.  
  
'Nothing, we were just talking what happened to you and the town. It makes me furious when I really think about it, that's all.' He smiled again, patting her shoulder. 'Don't worry about it. Let's eat, shall we?' Liana shrugged and pulled a small wooden table over to Trieste and Vash, while Vash picked up two chairs and sat them down. Trieste took her water and food without word, and sat where she was, calmly observing Vash. It was screamingly obvious that he was enamored with the young lady, and she was returning his interest.   
  
::How sweet,:: she thought sarcastically. ::I wonder if Legato would condone such actions? I imagine that's why Vash is going to kill me after I leave the town, he wouldn't want to offend her.:: Watching him more and more, she felt increasingly sad and let down. ::You seemed so trustworthy...everything in me told me you were above the rest of humanity. You seemed stupidly sincere about not killing. How did you confuse me so? You are very much unlike Legato's men...but that's why he sent you, isn't it? Someone to throw me off and make me stumble. Well, you won't trip me up again.:: After finishing a second sandwich, she excused herself and attended to her horse.  
  
*~*  
  
Vash spent the rest of the day thinking about the woman's threats. She meant them, there was no mistake. Whatever good he had thought about her was utterly destroyed, but he forgave her because she was confused. She though he was working for Legato. 'I shall make you sit down and listen to me! Tonight! I will convince you that I am only here to help...but I'll be damned if you ever hurt Liana.' He watched Liana more than usual, and felt such affection for her, he could hardly contain himself. She was so different from everyone, and was one of the few people to want to listen to him. She was too important to be threatened.  
  
*~*  
  
In the middle of the night, Trieste began to move out of the room. She took a small bag back down to her horse, whom she saddled quickly. She had regained almost full use of her arms and legs, and could easily ride out now. She needed only to go back to her room to take the maps and put on her cloak. She moved silently, not disturbing anyone or anything. Her room was lit with only a candle, but that was all she needed as she rolled the maps up and put on her cloak. A voice behind her suddenly made her stop.  
  
'Running away in the night again? You're becoming quite predictable.' The voice was friendly, but everything about Vash was false to Trieste now. She turned around slowly.  
  
'I would beg to differ, but I haven't got the time,' she replied, subtly reaching for her gun. He shook his head.  
  
'Don't reach for it, I have my own.' He twirled a large silver gun on his finger. 'We need to talk-' But he never got any further. The second he stopped twirling the gun and held it in his hand, she dropped the knife from inside her sleeve into her hand and swiftly threw it at his hand. It imbedded itself deeply, making him scream in pain and drop his gun. Not wasting another moment, Trieste pulled out her gun and shot him squarely in the chest, a seemingly perfect shot. As she shot, he had raised his arm almost invisably fast, but wasn't prepared for her to follow by bashing his upper nose with her gun as she ran by. He groaned painfully, fell back and slammed his body and head into the dresser. He slid down to the ground without another sound, the knife still in his hand, which was bleeding profusely. Trieste ran out of the room, down the stairs, outside, onto her horse, and rode as fast as Miss could go, out of town and into the night. She didn't bother to look behind. She never could look behind.  
  
*~* 


	7. Ashes To Ashes

You know the drill, Vash and Legato (and all other Trigun trademarks) ain't mine!  
  
Please check my profile for a thing about my E-mail; my poeticfury account in temporarily not available.   
  
Includes some teasers about Trieste's past, too. ^.^  
  
*~*  
  
The entire tavern had been woken up by the screams and gunshots, but none had been quick enough to come out and see Trieste running away. Several guests came out with guns barred, as did Liana's father. They quickly discovered Trieste's opened door and lit room, Vash laying there. Liana, following her father, stifled a scream and swooped down, horrified. Her father gently pushed her out of the way and looked at Vash.  
  
'There's a lot of blood on his hand and face. He can't stay here.' Carefully, the father picked up Vash's limp body and ran all the way to the doctor's. The knife was extracted, and his hand temporarily bandaged while the doctor went to work on the bullet wound. But when he opened the jacket, he was shocked to find no blood, no bullet hole into the chest; but he was so horribly scarred that most people had to turn away in shock and disgust. No one noticed the small hole in his sleeve, but they marvelled that his left arm-that this wasn't exactly a *human* arm. They had never seen anything like this, and all began to wonder just where this man had come from. The doctor then stitched Vash's hand and cleaned up his face, and reset his nose, which took much longer than his hand. Soon Vash was put under light sedatives. Placed on a cot in the office, Vash slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the pain in his hand, or the splitting headache he would probably wake up with in the morning.  
  
While he slept under Liana's vigil, the men had gathered in the doctor's kitchen to discuss just what exactly was going on. 'She's never threatened us. True, she was not the most grateful woman I've ever met, but I never saw malice in her. Directed towards us that, that is.' Liana's father was leaning against the kitchen counter, chin on his balled up fist, deep in thought.  
  
'There is something unnatural about her, though,' mused the doctor. 'I've never had someone heal that fast, nor have I ever met such a cold person. She is rather unnormal-'  
  
'Yes, but does that mean she's bad? Vash was in her room in the middle of the night, that would startle anyone who woke up.' The smithy's son was straddling a chair, an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. From across the room, a young traveler spoke up; he was the one who had helped Trieste up at one point. He was sitting on the counter, head leaning against the cabinets.  
  
'True, but what about the knife? It's not like she couldn't get to her gun, she always carried it. And Vash's gun was out, it was in the hand she threw the knife at.'  
  
'How do you know that?' asked the father. The young man shrugged, tracing his fingers along the glass containers of sugar, salt, and flour that decorated his perch.  
  
'I went in there after you took him downstairs to find out what happened. His gun had blood on it, I figured that was the only way. But whatever hand it was in, the gun *was* drawn, and for a reason.' The men grew silent for a while, but then the doctor thought aloud.  
  
'Should we inform the higher authorities, I wonder? I mean, if she hadn't missed him, we'd have a corpse on our hands.' They had still been unable to understand what had happened with the bullet; when someone picked it up, it was somewhat flattened as if it had hit a wall, but there were no markings on anything in the room.  
  
'I don't think so,' the young traveler said. 'We should wait to hear Vash's side of the story, see why he was in her room in the night with his gun drawn. She might be entirely blameless, or she might have been a murderer in the past. Um, where's your bathroom?'  
  
'Down the hall, to the left, across from Vash's room.' The man nodded and walked down the hallway. He paused outside of Vash's doorway and looked in.  
  
Liana was sitting in a chair by Vash's side, holding his hand, while reading a book with her free hand. As he watched, she looked at Vash and lovingly ran her hand down his face, then sighed.   
  
'Are you ok, ma'am?' asked the man, walking in quietly. Startled, Liana pulled her hand away and dropped the book.  
  
'Oh, yes, just worried.' Watching him from the corner of her eye, she bent down and picked up the book. 'Can I help you?'  
  
'Nome, I just came in to make sure you were OK.' He silently closed the door behind him. 'This is a pretty traumatic experience.' Liana shrugged, nervously rubbing her neck.  
  
'I've been through traumatic experiences. I'll be fine, and so will Vash. He needs his sleep and he'll be up in the morning. I think it's best if you went back with the others.' Liana found herself increasingly agitated, and only wanted the nameless man to leave. She hadn't known this man was in her inn or even in town, which was unsettling because it was so small you had to try very hard to stay unnoticed. Instead of leaving as she hoped he would, he merely walked closer to the bed. Liana stood up, the closed book still in hand. 'I asked for you to *go*, sir. Do not make me ask again!' The man grinned good-naturedly.  
  
'Well, me and the boys back in the kitchen were talking, and we figured it to be a good idea if we woke Vash up now and got the facts before that lil girl got too far. So what do ya say, hun, will you wake him up-' he pushed his jacket aside to reveal a gun. '-or should I?' Liana narrowed her eyes.  
  
'You can't bully me, get out of here! If you think you can scare me into doing whatever it is you say, you're damned wrong!'  
  
'Ah, but I wasn't gonna threaten a pretty thing like you. Sleeping Beauty is the one I got my eyes on. You better listen to me, or this will be his eternal slumber.' Liana raised her head, looking at him from an odd angle. She slowly and deliberately walked towards him, staring into his pale, hazel eyes that were alarmingly emotionless. Now that Liana could look at him, she saw that he wasn't ugly, nor was he attractive, but just there. There was nothing specifically wrong with his face, but something so subtle that to stare long enough made one desire never to see the face again. But Liana kept on looking, blinking only once.   
  
'You don't scare me,' she said angrily, and brought her hard-cover book to the side of his face, swinging as hard as she could, then dashed for the door, ready to scream for her father. But she had overestimated her strength, or perhaps underestimated his recovery speed because she found strong arms wrapping around her waist and a calloused hand engulfing her face; he ripped her away from the door and catapulted her back. She fell on her back and tumbled, then picked her head up to yell out for the others to hear. But before she could, she found herself looking down the barrel of a gun and the man staring furiously at her.  
  
'I have half a mind to shoot you right now, you know? Get up.' She shakily stood up, angry and frightened. The man pulled her chair away and sat in it, then motioned towards the bed. 'Sit down.'  
  
'What do you want with us?' asked Liana, clutching Vash's hand as she sat down. The man chuckled.  
  
'Do you know what life is? An ominous landscape of never-ending calamity. A pit in hell, a big ball of useless pain. Yet most people don't realize it, so Legato has taken it upon himself to teach all humanity that simple idea.' Liana gasped at Legato's name, and squeezed Vash's hand tighter. 'The young lady is of interest to Legato, but there isn't much known about her, since we've destroyed so many lives. She can be anyone, but it's all a game to Legato. Just fucking with her head, yanno? But Blondie obviously found out something about her, or she wouldn't of shot him. My job is to know what he knows and relay it back to Legato. Before, it was just to capture her. I imagine where she's going is something this blond-haired fellow knows, so wake him up and let's talk.' Closing her eyes, she nodded, then turned and gently began to shake Vash, wondering if she could wake him with the drugs so recently introduced to his system.   
  
'Vash, Vash, wake up...' She gave a harder shake. He mumbled and swatted at her with his bandaged hand, then cried out in pain when he connected with her arm. His eyes opened up hazily. 'Vash, c'mon, wake up...I need to talk to you.' Liana helped him sit up, though he seemed quite woozy.  
  
'Oh man, where am I? Why does my hand hurt so much?' Vash groaned, gingerly touching the bridge of his massively bandaged nose. He looked around and confusedly stared at the man with the gun. 'What are you doing? Who are you?' Vash was quickly recovering, becoming more coherent and controlled. Liana grabbed his unbandaged hand.  
  
'He works for Legato! He wants to know about-'  
  
'Trieste Buldar. So why don't you shut up, hun, and let the big boys talk.' He smiled greasily at Liana, but she looked away angrily. Vash continued to stare at the man, quite lost.  
  
'Who?'  
  
'Buldar, Trieste Buldar, the bitch who shot you, you know, *her*. Start talking.' A startled realization flicked across Vash's face, but neither Liana or the man noticed. He calmly pushed himself into a sitting position then folded his arms and yawned.  
  
'When did LB send you? Before or after I was assigned?' Liana jumped, and pushed away from Vash, shocked. The gunman lowered his gun slightly.  
  
'Huh?'  
  
'I asked when Legato assigned you. I thought I was the only one tracking her.' Vash's voice was serious, even slightly dangerous. Liana inched away some more, unable to believe this kind man worked for Legato.  
  
'Wait, you work for Legato? Where the hell is your feather?' The man lifted his right arm, displaying a small, gold feather outline stitched into his sleeve. Vash shrugged.  
  
'She knows it. I discarded it on purpose. May we please get on to the next point?'   
  
The man, unsure of what to do, raised his gun.  
  
'Your story first.' Vash rolled his eyes.  
  
'Ten weeks ago I was assigned to follow Trieste, capture her, and take her toLegato so she would learn her lesson. I finally made contact with her in a bar, and would have been successful in retrieving her when a bunch of idiots-our men, of course-decided to step out of line and hold the place up. They actually mentioned Legato by name, so Trieste went around and killed almost every one. I tried to be friendly to her that night, but I underestimated her cold bitch factor, and got no where. She left in the middle of the night, I didn't know where to. I finally found her here and planned on taking her back to Legato now that she was healthy.' He raised his bandaged hand. 'I wasn't expecting her to have a knife as back up. She nearly took my hand off! God only knows if I'll be able to shoot well again. And now she's gone, and I have no idea where once again.'  
  
After listening, the man dropped his gun into his holster. 'Shit, man, I had no idea. About four weeks ago, I was told she'd be here in this town for an extended period of time. I was supposed to wait til she was healthy and take her to Legato, but then you came along. I thought you were just some idiot who was friends with her.' He reached out his hand. 'In loyalty to Legato, my name is Thews.' Vash stood up.  
  
'I'm Vash.' Instead of shaking his hand, though, Vash landed an uppercut to Thews's jaw that sent him reeling. Deftly, Vash dove in, grabbed his gun, wrapped his arm around the man's neck and pointed Thews's own gun to his head, wearing a strangly friendly smile on his face.  
  
'Sorry to do this, but I feel like it's the only way to talk.' He smiled at Liana. 'Don't worry, I really am a good guy.' Liana stared at him, thoroughly lost.  
  
'But-but how did you...your stories just now. I don't understand...' Vash shrugged.  
  
'Most of it is true, I ran into Trieste at a bar where Legato's men attacked, and they did mention him by name, and she did indeed kill most of them. But I never heard of that Legato guy until her, never found out her name, nothing. But now that Mr. Thews is here, I think we can chat a bit.' Vash pressed the gun closer to Thews's head. 'So, tell us all you know about Trieste.'  
  
'Fuck you! I'm not talking!' Liana narrowed her eyes, jumped up from the bed, and swiftly slapped Thews across the face, hard.  
  
'Listen, I've had enough problems from you tonight, so unless you want that gun shoved up your ass, I suggest you start talking, and fast, you son of bitch!' Both Vash and Thews were speechless, their words knocked out their mouths by Liana's rough turn. Vash shook his head.  
  
'You heard the lady,' Vash said, nudging Thews. 'I think you better cooperate.' Thews clenched his jaw, then sighed.  
  
'Fine...her full name is Trieste Lee Buldar. She's an only child, she's twenty-four. She was born on June seventeenth, both parents are dead.' Thews stopped.   
  
'Well? Keep going, what does Legato have to do with her?' Thews shrugged.  
  
'How the hell should I know, I don't talk to Legato personally. He probably destroyed her town and she's out for revenge or she's a bounty hunter looking for big money. The only reason Legato is paying attention is because she's been hunting us without our realizing it. We've been aware of her for two years, but she's has been hunting Legato for at least five.'   
  
'There, that wasn't so hard.' Vash grinned at Liana, but she wasn't looking at him; she was watching Thews's arm, which had slowly been reaching for his right pants pocket. 'I think it's time we moved on to Legato, what can you-'  
  
'What are you reaching for?' Liana grabbed Thews's wrist, jerked it away from the pocket, then reached her own hand in there. She pulled out two small, metal balls, the size of marbles. 'What are these?' Vash's eyes widened.  
  
'Back away from Thews, Liana,' he commanded. Looking strangely at Vash, Liana did so. 'Now, carefully, without dropping the balls, open that window and throw them as hard as you possibly can, and shut the window.' Liana backed towards the window, which she slid open.  
  
'What are these things?' Without bothering to wait for an answer, she threw the two balls out the window as hard as she could, and they were lost from her sight in the darkness. She closed the window. 'Well?'  
  
'Those two small balls contain deadly gas that is released when they're thrown or dropped. Usually a gas no one on this planet recognizes, so they wouldn't realize they've been poisoned.' Vash and Liana looked at Thews, who was turning an alarming shade of pale; the blood drained from his face, and his mouth hung open slightly.  
  
'But...I've never heard of anything like them before,' Liana protested. Thews continued to stand limply, staring out the window Liana had thrown the balls out of.  
  
'Lost technology.' That was Vash's only reply. He nudged Thews again. 'You OK, man? You look like someone just sucker-punched you in the heart.'  
  
'Do you know what you've done to me!?' shrieked Thews suddenly, struggling against Vash. 'Do you have *any* idea what Legato is going to do to me when he finds out what I've told you? You fuckers! You heartless bastards! Let me go so I can go shoot myself!' Unable to break away from Vash's arms wrapped around his body, Thews threw his head back as hard as he could, bashing Vash in the face, hitting his nose hard. Howling, Vash instinctively reached for his face, releasing his captive. Shouting, Liana grabbed Thews, then screamed for her father.  
  
'Dad! One of Legato's men is trying to kill us!!' Growling, Thews managed to smack Liana as he wrestled away, but this time he underestimated his strength and she grabbed him by his collar and swung him into the door, which burst open, wrecking the hinges and cracking the door itself. As Thews scrambled up, he suddenly realized there were people in his path; Liana's father and the other men had come into the hallway with their guns drawn, not quite sure what Liana had yelled. Gasping, Thews turned around, heading for the bathroom. Liana yelled again. 'It's one of Legato's men trying to kill us!' That's all the men needed; all three opened fire, riddling Thews's body with bullets. He jerked on his feet, then dropped with a strangled groan. Blood pooled on to the wooden floor; Liana buried her face into Vash's jacket.  
  
'We got the sonofbitch! Good shot, boys. You OK, Liana?' Liana looked up and nodded, then looked to Vash.  
  
'Vash...?' Liana suddenly realized Vash was turning a pale shade of green, tears streaking down his face as he stared down at the bloody body. 'Are you alright?'   
  
'Uhh, I'm gonna go back to my room now, Liana.' Vash looked ready to throw-up, and the blood from his nose wasn't helping any. Liana, slightly bewildered, helped lead him back to bed and called for the doctor to come in.  
  
'It's probably the drugs we gave you, they have that affect on people sometimes.' Vash put his hands to his mouth and stomach and laid down. Liana sat down next to him, confused by his crumbled nature.  
  
*~*  
  
Trieste pushed her horse on as fast as she could, not slowing down even for a few seconds. After almost three hours of hard riding, a small town appeared on the horizon, lit up eerily in the moonlight. It was not unusual weather, though; nights were almost always cool and clear, and bright as well. Trieste galloped through the darkened town, then turned to her left and exited. She had no idea what direction she was heading in, but she kept going. The dull thuds of her horse's hooves hitting the sand vibrated thickly through her body, harping on the aches and pains that had not fully healed. It wasn't any colder than usual, but she was shivering uncontrollably the entire time anyway. She didn't hear anything behind her, but that didn't mean much. Two hours later she realized one of the suns was coming up on her back left, so she had been traveling South East since that town. As the sun grew brighter, she slowed down, trotted on top of a sand dune and scanned the miles of sand surrounding her. After minutes of searching and nothing on the horizon, she jumped off her horse and put her ear to the ground. Still nothing from *that* direction...but there was a bus or some other large vehicle to the East, one of the few pieces of technology humanity had. She judged it to be about three miles away, moving at the usual speed. Standing up and wiping off the sand, she tossed on her hood and sighed.   
  
'Thirsty Miss? It's been a while since you've run that hard.' Trieste gave the horse some water, took a drink herself, then mounted once more. Taking one last scan across the dessert before it became blinding, she was relieved to see nothing. Cracking the reigns, Trieste trotted towards the direction of the bus.  
  
*~* 


	8. Fade

Guess who doesn't belong to me! Trigun characters, yah!  
  
I also do not own any copyrights to Beck or The Pretenders or any subsequent songs. Along these lines, the formatting for the lyrics is a tad screwed up-there's a whole line between each sentence, and I'm not completely sure how to fix it. I'm typing in Notepad (I write so much easier in it) so that might be part of the problem. It doesn't look like how I wanted it to, but oh well. ``Lyrics``   
  
Sorry for the lack of updates...they'll become more steady once I'm in school.  
  
*~*  
  
As it went, Trieste's routine in life was undisturbed for almost a year after that. She didn't give Vash or anyone else a second thought after that long night, figuring Vash to be quite dead and the townspeople too inept and worried about their own lives to chase her for killing a stranger. She was somewhat concerned about Legato knowing where she was, but this wasn't urgent, either. Trieste knew she was heading towards his home territory. Before she had actually began her physical hunt years ago, Trieste had spent her time gathering information from law enforcers, bounty hunters, and the few early survivors of Legato's 'visits'. All of the research of far away victims was difficult, as long-range communication was nearly non-existent. But she had finally been able to trace people back to a region, albeit an extremely large and spread out region, of towns and cities that had been attacked at a much higher percent then the rest of the dusty planet. The area was thousands of miles wide, filled with nothingness and ghost cities, emptied by Legato's rage and insanity. Although these attacks had been earlier in his destructive career, Trieste was convinced that he lived somewhere around there, or at least had a stronghold he resided at. As far as she could tell, Legato hadn't made a personal appearance at his little war zones for a few years, but then again, some attacks left all witnesses dead; easily his work. Easily the most recognizable symbol of his beliefs, that life was pain and it was his duty to create more. He had started this practice with Trieste's family; she was the beginning of his murderous life, and Trieste was determined to finish it. It was a disgusting blood connection that ruined her very existence and turned an eleven year old girl into a hunter with the instinct to kill. And kill she did.  
  
One unremarkable day Trieste trotted into a busy town around dinner time. Most people in the streets barely glanced at the hooded figure as she made her way to a tavern that appeared to have rooms to board up stairs. Dismounting and tying her horse to a post outside the bar, she realized that the place was a bit more upscale than she was used to, or possibly much lower than she preferred: the sign that read 'Live Entertainment!' could mean just about anything, from musicians to topless dancers. Walking in, she saw her first perception was correct, it was much nicer than she was used to; the bar was fairly quiet, mostly couples enjoying a beer or some snacks. She even saw a family sitting near the small, circular stage. On stage was a pretty young woman, in the middle of a piano accompanied song, one which Trieste did not recognize.  
  
``Don't be ashamed to cry.  
  
Let me see you through,   
  
cause I've seen the dark side too.  
  
When the night falls on you   
  
and you don't know what to do,  
  
nothing you confess   
  
will make me love you less.  
  
I'll stand by you.``  
  
Trieste groaned silently inside her hood at the song. Glancing around, she saw the bar was fairly empty and dark, the barkeep idly cleaning glasses and arranging bottles of liquor. Sitting down at the bar, Trieste figured he was in his forties and noticed a wedding ring on his finger. Nothing fancy, just a small band of gold that adorned his finger.   
  
'What'll it be, stranger?' he asked offhandedly, bracing himself in front of Trieste.   
  
'The cheapest beer you got,' she replied. The bartender chuckled and produced a mug of amber-colored, crappy tasting beer that Trieste found too bitter and too thin, even for it's meager price. But she didn't mind it much, since it wasn't what she came for. 'Nice town,' she remarked casually.   
  
'It's OK, we have our problems like anybody else.'  
  
``Don't hold it all inside,   
  
c'mon and talk to me now.``  
  
'Any...bounty problems?' The bartender raised an eyebrow in interest.  
  
'Possibly.'  
  
``When you're standing at the cross roads   
  
and don't know which path to choose,  
  
let me come along cause even if you're wrong,  
  
I'll stand by you...``  
  
'What about a man by the name of Legato Bluesummers?' Trieste's voice barely carried across the bar, but the man behind it jumped as if she had shouted. Looking around the bar, he leaned in and spoke quietly.  
  
'Legato is a dangerous man to talk about. This town hasn't had any problems but...' he trailed off as another man approached the bar. 'Name your drink, sir.'  
  
'Five specials, please! The ones on the menu...' He smiled oddly, obviously having imbibed a few 'specials' already. Trieste was silent, listening to the end of the song as the barkeep mixed the drinks.  
  
``And when, when the night falls on you baby.  
  
You're feeling all alone, wandering on your own.  
  
I'll stand by you  
  
I'll stand by you.  
  
I won't let nobody hurt you.  
  
I'll stand by you.  
  
Take me into your darkest hour,  
  
and I'll never desert you.  
  
I'll stand by you..``  
  
As the woman trailed off, the piano man banged out a few pretty notes and ended. The audience burst into applause; the young woman wasn't half bad. Trieste watched at the man walked off with his drinks, walking somewhat sideways.   
  
'Thank you much, you're a lovely audience!' The woman called out. 'That was I'll Stand By You, by The Pretenders, a band before our time. We are fortunate that their music has survived!' The audience clapped some more. Trieste turned her attention to the barkeep once more.  
  
'Your town has been lucky enough to escape Legato. Count your blessings.' The barkeep nodded, the leaned in towards her again.  
  
'I have a friend who knows someone who knew a guy who worked for Legato.' He paused as a group of people ascended the stage and announced they were going to sing a song by another group 'before their time'.  
  
'He was actually a solo singer,' said the one man with a guitar. Another man and woman with a harmonica sitting down next to him nodded. 'So we'll be singing Bottle of Blues by Beck.' He laughed. 'I tried to pack as many b's in their as a I possibly could.' The audience chuckled. He began strumming the guitar and the woman started in on her harmonica. Then the two men began to sing pleasantly.  
  
``I just found me a bottle of blues.  
  
Some strange comfort for soul to soothe.  
  
Ain't it hard, ain't it hard,   
  
to want somebody who doesn't want you?``  
  
'What do you know?'  
  
He sighed. 'The kid's dead now, apparently he had bragged too much and Legato didn't appreciate it. He was murdered in his jail cell.' Trieste nodded almost imperceptibly. 'Said he wasn't hired by Legato personally, but by some doctor or something. He was taught the whole bit about life as pain and that horseshit.' He paused as a waitress walked up to give him orders for drinks and food.  
  
``In a brothel of fake energy.  
  
Put a nickel in a graveyard machine,  
  
I get higher and lower.  
  
I get higher and lower,  
  
like a tired soldier with nothing shoot  
  
and no where to loose this bottle of blues.``  
  
'Any other specific information?' Trieste urged.   
  
'Yeah, the kid was in Calia when he was first talking, said it was somewhere East of it. Don't know the area myself, it being so damned far away...' Trieste nodded and finished her beer.  
  
``Egos drone and pose alone  
  
like black balloons,  
  
all banged and blown.  
  
On the backwards river  
  
infidels shiver at the stench of belief.``  
  
'Thanks for the beer.' She pushed some money towards him, the payment for the beer and payment for his information.   
  
'Anything I should know?' inquired the bartender as she got up. Pausing, Trieste stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head.  
  
'But I will give you some little known advice in return for your information. Watch for men with a feather stitched onto their clothes somewhere, usually the hat or back of the sleeve. It's Legato's trademark, the feather of some bird of prey he read about.' She paused, then added 'Not all of his men will have one, but if you see that symbol, I suggest leaving quickly.' Without another word, Trieste walked towards the door, deciding to stay in a different inn. Though she would never know it, that bit of information would save his life when he left the bar as angry looking men with feathers on their hats marched in and later on killed everyone inside.  
  
``Like a tired soldier with nothing to shoot  
  
and no where to loose this bottle of blues.``  
  
A cheery harmonica saw Trieste out.  
  
*~*  
  
Over the same year, Vash had stuck around the town with Liana, discussing Trieste. Two months after her disappearance, they decided to go find her. Liana wanted to ensure revenge for the husband and wife that were killed, and Vash was still determined to stop Trieste from killing, since it was apparent she was so willing to do so. And he couldn't pass up a chance to travel alone with Liana, not like this. So they packed their Thomases, being unable to afford horses, saved some cash, and began their own blind hunt. They traveled from town to town, only staying for a few days. Vash suggested that they hit the bars, being that was where he had met her and they did offer chances of information. But despite this fact, no one they ever talked to seemed to remember the figure they described, which was extremely discouraging. They never mentioned Legato's name; Liana felt that would be a sure way to be killed. They traveled by pure instinct and luck, and even though they couldn't find Trieste, they were faring much better than they believed they were.  
  
Liana proved to be a highly intelligent and skilled woman, knowing when she needed her pretty face and when she needed to show off her rather formidable marksmanship. She wasn't as good as Trieste, but she had skill that she used when necessary. Vash was impressed, surprised, and highly pleased with how their trip was turning out between the two of them, and how Liana's talents continued to show themselves each day.  
  
*~*  
  
Trieste silently gave herself a toast with the first good beer she had had in a year; it was June seventeenth and she was now twenty-six. It had been a couple of months since she stopped in that bar with the informative barkeep and she was a town away from Calia. It had taken her...almost three months. The terrain had been rougher than what she and her horse were used to, and it was just a God-awful long distance anyway.  
  
::Why the hell do people build towns so far away from each other? It's insane, Jesus Christ.:: Even though she was almost at Calia, Trieste knew it could take literally years to cover the territory she was aiming at. It was huge, sand dunes hundreds of feet high, high frequency of sand storms, and low number of occupied towns. People were more scared around there, jittery, and she found herself being watched for the sole fact that she was a stranger. One innkeeper had even demanded she remove her hood before she could stay the night; her refusal led them to draw their guns. Throwing up her hands in frustration, she walked out and ended up sleeping in her horse's stall. Later that night, they had come in anyway to look under her hood and two ended up dead, the other wounded badly. She rode away before she knew his fate for certain.  
  
The only place she knew would offer some shelter was the large city that was on her route, New Eire. It was fairly packed, there were plenty of families who actually owned cars-a rare commodity at that point-and probably oozing with information. Trieste planned to ride in two days, right now she was taking a break-and giving her horse a rest. She idly considered getting smashed that night, just to really celebrate her oh so wonderful life and perhaps would have if a sly, weasel-faced man hadn't slunk in. He banged the bar top for attention.  
  
'Hey! Barkeep! I gotta question for you!' Trieste sighed inside her hood, casting the loud man a side-glance. That's when she noticed the gold feather stitched onto his sleeve. Narrowing her eyes, she finished her drink with a large gulp and watched the feathered man with keen interest.  
  
::So Legato's men are hanging around? Well there go my drinking plans,:: she thought with a grim smile.  
  
'What can I do ya for?' asked the bartender.  
  
'I need a room, three nights, single with a bath if ya have them.'  
  
'Of course we have them, sir.' The bartender went to a back room and came back out a few minutes later with a piece of paper and keys. 'Sign here and here, and that will be your nightly payment. I need your first payment now, please.' Legato's man fished around his pockets and pulled out some cash and change, laying it on the table.  
  
'Lucky room number seven, can't beat it,' he said as he snatched his keys up. 'Listen, I'll pay you an extra night's stay if you send up some...entertainment later tonight. Thanks.' He sauntered away, not bothering to look at the bar keep, but by his disgruntled face, Trieste could tell he did not plan on sending him any entertainment.  
  
::That's OK, you'll have me instead,:: she thought mockingly. ::Me and a gun that is.::  
  
*~* 


	9. Heavy Things

*~*  
  
Trigun isn't mine, never will be.  
  
Warning: Torture ahead, nothing too graphic. Also, this is my first attempt at a torture scene, so if it seems...strange, that's why. I generally don't spend my time thinking up ways to hurt people.   
  
Danke, random fan, and once again to Alucard! I have fans, I'm so happy! ^.^ Hope I can keep you guys happy.  
  
*~*  
  
An hour later Trieste tapped the counter lightly to show she was ready to pay and leave. Leaving cash and a tip, she slung her small pack over her shoulder and walked up the wooden stairs to where the bedrooms were. There were twelve in all; she had number ten herself. Stopping at number seven, she paused to think. She knew exactly what he was expecting; some half-dressed twenty-year old with more sexual escapades in a year some women get in their lives. She did not fit that picture in any way, but all Trieste had to do was get the guy to open his door. She could fake it. She had seen this more times than she cared to count. Clearing her throat, Trieste closed her eyes then lightly rapped on the door.  
  
'Hello,' she called out in her real voice. 'Did someone ask for some...company?' She could hear footsteps inside.  
  
'No, I asked for entertainment!'  
  
'Well...how about entertaining company, baby?' Trieste winced slightly; she didn't enjoy playing this part.  
  
'That sounds more like it!' She listened closely and could hear a faint rustling; was he undressing? Trieste blanched then forced herself to keep talking.  
  
'Are you all alone in their big boy?'   
  
'You bet I am!' He was getting closer towards the door and Trieste placed her hand on her gun, which gave her one last idea to keep him off-guard.  
  
'I hope you don't have that big gun of yours drawn yet, sugar.'  
  
'Not yet, baby, not yet,' he replied as he opened the door to a dark, hooded figure.   
  
'Good, cause I do!' Trieste's voice was harsh and she shoved the gun into his bare chest. 'Get inside, now.' Unable to do anything except what she commanded, he raised his arms and backed inside. She followed and closed the door behind them quickly and locked it. 'Pull out that chair into the middle of the room and sit down.' He nodded and dragged the chair over. Trieste jerked off her hood, then slipped the entire cloak off as she dropped her pack onto the floor and sat down on a small table, gun in hand. She paused to peruse the half-naked man sitting nervously in front of her. He was only four or five years younger than she was, and might have been cute if he wasn't so sneaky looking. His frame was wiry, a runner if anything, and he only had his trousers on, the belt unbuckled. No shoes. He tried to stare back at her, but found himself unable to meet her chilling gaze. 'Now. We can do this one of two ways. The easy way where you give me all the information I want and you're rewarded-' she pulled out what looked like a large sum of money. '-or you can hold onto your pathetic idea of loyalty and speak after a long session of torture which may or may not lead to your death.' His eyes bulged. 'Whether you die or not depends on how long it takes for you to break. Some of the others spoke relatively quickly.'  
  
'O-others?' he gulped out. Trieste smiled mockingly at him.  
  
'I'm well-versed in this area, and you can thank Legato for that. Now I know,' she continued, getting up from the table and speaking casually and flippantly. 'that Legato holds all of you under his control through fear. Tell anyone you work for Legato, you're killed. Tell anyone any information about Legato and you're tortured. Fail a mission, you're tortured-and *then* killed.' The man stared at Trieste, his jaw hanging slightly open. 'Oh, don't look so shocked you pathetic moron. I know all about your master. He owes me fifteen years of life...ah but that's old news.' She strode purposefully in front of him. 'So are we gonna take the easy road or the hard road?'  
  
'Legato-Legato will kill me-'  
  
'Unlikely. Has he ever...seen your face? Does he know your name? Do you think I'm going to remember you after I leave? I've taken so many of you assholes down, your faces are all blurry. And depending on how much information you give me, Legato will be dead before he realizes someone slipped some extra information somewhere. So save yourself some pain, and talk. Where is Legato's stronghold? Where is he right now? What's the quickest way to get there?' She shot her questions out like bullets, but he just turned his head away and said nothing. Sliding her gun back into its holster, she sat down on her haunches, looked him right in the face and waved the wad of money in front of him. 'C'mon, kid, extra money! Shit, I'll even pay for your stay here. Be rewarded or suffer some pain and fear.' He looked up, glowering and suddenly shot his hands out towards her throat so he could choke her to death. But her hands were faster, and she had been waiting. Her hands came up and before he could get a grip on her throat, she threw his hands to the sides of his body, away from her face and sprung up, knocking him and the chair over. Before he could fight back, she pulled a switchblade out and held it to his throat.  
  
'Like the blade? It's one of Legato's models. After dealing with one of your friends, I realized the benefits of always keeping a knife on hand and not just with my horse.' She pushed the blade in a bit harder, making a slight indent on his skin.  
  
'Bitch!' he bit out bravely. Trieste chuckled, shaking her head. With her free hand she quickly pulled her gun back out and cocked it. Slowly she slid the knife away and stood up. He remained sprawled at her feet, shocked to have met a person, let alone a woman, who was so willing and able to harm him. Her mocking smile faded away to a cool detachment and she motioned to the over turned chair.  
  
'Pick it up and sit back down.' Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Trieste went to the floor and began to go through her pack. A few seconds later she produced a length of thin, black rope, hardly thicker than a shoelace. She snapped it between her hands, then pulled out some more. 'I also learned to carry this around as well. It's tie-line, used to tie things together than need to be together for a long time. Used by movers, and builders all over.' She walked behind him and pulled his hands behind the chair and began to tie his wrists together. 'It's very strong stuff, holds a knot well.' He winced as she tugged the tie-line and slightly cut off the circulation to his hands. She swiftly tied his ankles to the chair legs.  
  
'You'll never get me to talk!' he boasted. 'I'm of Legato's men!' She shrugged off-handedly.  
  
'When I'm done you will be very eager to chat, believe me. But for now...' she picked up his shirt and pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast pocket then tied it around his mouth. 'Say something.' From the tone of his voice, he had insulted her, but all Trieste could hear was a muffled grunt. She walked to the window and pulled the shade down slowly. When she turned around he could not read her face; she seemed coolly indifferent yet highly engaged at the same time as she stepped towards him, knife in hand.  
  
'Now I like this blade. It came as a double gift-'she lightly ran her finger over the faint scar along her jaw line. '-that was given back in threefold. I like giving gifts, you know?' As she spoke she ran the blade forcefully but slowly over his left cheek in a long, thin line. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears. Blood trickled down his chin in tiny streams. 'I didn't bother to actually carry the knife on me until a while ago. The benefits became quite obvious. I keep it very very sharp, as you can tell-' she jabbed the tip into his left shoulder, then pulled down with a slash, creating a much deeper but shorter wound that cause him to give out a strangled cry of pain. 'So tell me about Legato.'  
  
A shallow, long slice across his stomach.  
  
'Where's his fortress?'  
  
A swift, deeper cut onto the side of his right arm, near the elbow.  
  
'What does he look like?'  
  
A long, deep slice into his side that sent tears streaming down his face and muffled screams to go no where but the cotton handkerchief stuffed in his mouth. She held it there and wiggled it slightly, causing him to spasm, creating more pain.  
  
'What is your particular mission anyway? Where are the others?'  
  
A quick pull under his jaw, close to his neck. A quick, deep jab into his right thigh that she didn't pull out immediately. She looked him right in the eyes. 'Whenever you're ready to talk. But believe me, this is nothing. I like to start out slowly. A...personal preference.' His eyes shot daggers at her, but she just shrugged. Because the chair was somewhat short and small, a good portion of his upper back was exposed. Trieste deftly pulled the knife from his leg and walked around him carefully. Standing behind him, she began to put nicks into his skin at every vertebrae. He flinched at each one, and didn't bother to wonder why she wasn't asking him questions at the moment. She then began cutting into the outlines of his shoulder blades, and began to scrape the side of the blade across his back, as if peeling his skin. He grunted and groaned and the stings and slashes, but he could take it so far. But she was eerily silent, carving and carving as if he was a piece of wood she was sculpting and he felt the incredible urge to scream. She then put two thick and long cuts down his neck.  
  
'Tell me where Legato can be found.'  
  
She walked to his front and began to slice around his pectoral muscles as if they were outlines she was tracing with a pen.  
  
'How far of a ride is it on horse? Where are you meeting the other men?' She was becoming slightly irritated, which somehow managed to amuse him. She saw it in his eyes and grimaced. She leaned over his body and as she whispered 'You will fucking talk,' she jammed the blade into this left nipple, which produced an audible yell, but not one to be heard by anyone outside the room. Staring into his eyes, she slowly began to twist the blade, causing him to jerk and shake violently, trying to move his chair. She viciously slapped the right side of his face with such force he was somewhat dizzy and he stopped jerking around. She continued to twist it deeper and he kept screaming in anguish but there was no one to hear him.  
  
'How about now? Care to talk?' He forced himself to shake his head, reminding himself about his loyalty to Legato, but more importantly, how much worse Legato's torture would be. He received the knife into his other nipple, and it was turned ever so agonizingly and slowly. After that it was a slightly blur of continuous cuts and slices and questions that tried to burn their way into his mind. He became vaguely aware that there was no new pain being administered to him after awhile. Looking down at his body, all he could see was red streaks across his skin, some bright red, some almost purple. He felt like he was floating and disjointed, as if his pain and his wounds were separated. Lifting his head, he saw Trieste staring at him expectantly.  
  
'Don't faint on me just yet.' She turned back to her back and pulled out a medium sized plastic bottle of some generic liquid soap. 'I like this soap. It's massed produced, and cheap because whatever chemicals they use is found in abundance on this God-forsaken planet.' Her words held little meaning for the bloody man, and his head slumped a little but she continued to speak. 'I have had only one problem with this soap, and it's generally small-generally. I found that when I washed an open wound with it-' she poured a small amount onto the tips of her fingers. '-they burned like nothing I had ever felt. It feels like acid, or at least what I imagine acid would feel like. It hurt me so much I had to stop using it, which is saying a lot. It's one of the ingredients used, the main one. It doesn't heal wounds, doesn't help them. If anything, it aggravates your cuts with an immense amount of pain.' She smeared the amount onto his destroyed hole of a left nipple. The pain seared through him like the acid she spoke of and his scream would have been loud enough to hear, had there been anyone to listen. He continued his muffled yelling as she pasted the cream all over his wounds. Soon his entire body was a sickening shade of pale pink with deep red strokes here and there. She was a bit bloody as well, having brushed against him time to time, but there wasn't much. Her hands were the same shade of pink, though. When she stopped, he was crying openly and jerking his arms as if he could release himself. Several times his head rolled back and he stared at the open bathroom door longingly. He considered talking when she gave a sigh of resignation.  
  
'Well, you have a stronger will than I anticipated. I usually do more but I don't feel like going to my horse. So I'm just going to rinse you off and go. Legato would be proud.' She walked into the bathroom and he heard a knob turning, then the rush of water. A minute later she came back out, knife still in hand, and cut the tie-line that held his feet to the chair legs. When she faced him, Trieste saw an open look of relief in his eyes. Unable to help herself, she began to laugh bitterly. 'Oh, you fool, you think I'm letting you go? Ha!' She reached down and picked him up by his neck, chair and all. He gurgled as she squeezed his throat, then reached over and shook loose the chair so that it clattered to the floor. She tossed him to the side, sending him crashing into the wall, smashing his elbow and shoulder. She then re-tied his feet together, then bound his wrists to his legs so that he resembled and odd-shaped 'o'. Grabbing his ankles, she dragged him across the floor into the bathroom and shut the door. When she sat him up to put him in the tub, he saw steam rising from under the faucet. She dropped him into the tub face down, causing him to bash his nose and let out more blood. The tub was empty and dry; the stopper had not been put into the drain. 'This is your last chance because I'm tired. I don't feel like being elaborate and talented at the moment, so if you don't talk now, you're just going to fucking die for some asshole you've probably never seen and who doesn't give a shit about you.' She braced her arm across his head, pinning it loosely to the bottom of the tub. 'If you feel like talking, go ahead and bang your head three times against the side of the tub and I shall pull you out quickly so that I can get my answers.' She turned the knob back a bit, slowing the water then carefully put in the stopper. The tub very, very slowly began to fill, the water seeping towards his face at a terrifyingly sloth-like pace. He was face down, unable to escape, but he kept trying to convince himself that this was nothing compared to what Legato could do. But that became less and less important as the steaming water reached his face and began to burn his possibly broken nose. His forehead burned and began to blister as the water hit it and rose; the handkerchief did nothing to buffer his skin as the scalding water plastered it to his face. He thought that perhaps boiling to death was the worst way to die when he suddenly realized she wasn't just going to burn him-he was being drowned as well! He kept breathing in a mixture of blood and burning water through his nose and he could barely get any air through his mouth.   
  
'Just tell me about Legato and you shall be released. Just think of the cold water running down your skin, washing away the acidic soap, easing your burns. Think of gauze and ointment healing you. No more blood, you'll be able to breath. All you have to do is talk for a little while.' Her words were spoken softly into his ear, which he realized had been sliced as well at some point. The lack of oxygen and the insufferable pain finally allowed him to feebly hit the side three times. He was immediately whisked out of the tub and onto the floor of the bathroom. She untied the bloody rag from his mouth, then sat down on the side of the tub and casually turned off the water.  
  
'Alright, the faster you talk, the sooner you'll be OK. What is your mission?'  
  
He didn't speak for a few moments, but finally mustered the ability to talk clearly. 'I...I was investigating a family that Legato has history with...finding out where they are.' His breath was shallow and quick, and his eyes were closed as he laid on the floor. 'I was supposed to find out about friends...other family...report back to the doctor-'  
  
'Ah, yes, that doctor. I've heard vaguely of him, what's his name?'  
  
'I dunno,' he replied, struggling for breath. 'He hasn't told us and from what I can tell, he will not release it. He's just the doctor...Legato's assistant of some sort...' he coughed a few times.  
  
'Where are you heading? Are you meeting someone?' He feebly nodded against the tile floor.  
  
'I was joining a group of four in a town ten miles North-East from New Eire...' he coughed again.  
  
'Where is Legato located?'  
  
'I don't know exactly. He's been...taking...precautions the past few years. When I was recruited...they took me blindfolded across the dessert...didn't know where we were. But I remember that there's...mountains to the...East. A very long...mountain range...' His words were becoming less and less audible, less understandable.  
  
'What does his fortress look like?'  
  
'Giant fucking stone building...built with lost technology. A few miles away from a mining town...' Trieste could see he was slipping further and further away.  
  
'Alright...have you ever seen Legato face to face?'  
  
'...no,' he whispered.  
  
With that, Trieste turned on the cold water and began to drain the tub. She hauled the man into the tub, then turned on the shower faucet, allowing the freezing water to blast him. He gasped at the cold, but didn't move as the water washed away the soap and blood and eased his burns. He wasn't aware of Trieste as she rummaged through his bags and flipped through books. He didn't realize that he hadn't stopped bleeding from the deep gashes inflicted upon his body. He didn't understand that he was soon going to slip out of consciousness, and never wake up.  
  
Swiftly throwing on her cloak, Trieste briefly considered getting her tie-line back, but decided against it. She put a small writing book that had been in his bag into hers, then closed the bathroom door on the pale, wet figure in the tub. As she left, she hung the complimentary 'Do Not Disturb' door knob sign that more and more places were carrying on the door knob and quickly went to her own room. She left the next morning, but the man was not found until the day after when the bartender decided he wanted the payment. 


End file.
